A Trip Abroad: Sketches of Men and Manners, People and Places, in Europe

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CHURCH OF THE NOTRE DAME, PARIS.

A TRIP ABROAD.

SKETCHES

OF

MEN AND MANNERS,

PEOPLE AND PLACES,

IN

EUROPE.

tm

BY

•^

RALEIGH :
Edwards, Broughton & Co., Steam Printers, Publishers and Binders.

1882. ;

c

THE NEW YORK

PUBLIC LIBIIARY

957801A

AflTOB. LENOX AXD

TILOBN ^FOUXDATiONf

B 1938 L

PREFACE,

I make no apology for t he second a ppearance of the
material composing this little volume, save that hun-
dreds of requests, from friends and strangers in this
and adjoining States, have urged me to its reproduc-
tion. And just here let .me state that it is not in-
tended for the entices perusal, but simply for the
friendly eye, who, though finding many imperfections,
throws the mantle of charity over them all, and re-
ceives it, as it ts intended by the author, to gratify
his many friends, and, may be, to do some good.
May God add His blessing to this and the

Author.

A Trip Abroad.

CHAPTER 1.

A strong desire for a long time to see the Old World,
together with a sense of my need of recreation after a year
of hard work, decided me to take a trip to Europe, during
my summer vacation in 1880. This desire was enhanced
by the large gathering of distinguished Sunday-school
workers from all parts of the world at the Sunday-school
Centenary, which assembled in London. Accordingly, I
started for New York, June 15th, to obtain passage for Eng-
land, There was so much travel that I found no little
difficulty in securing a berth on any of the steamship lines,
all of which were crowded. There was, however, one va-
cancy on the steamer of the Inman line, "City of Montreal,"
which sailed Thursday, June 17th.

It is a matter of no small interest to notice the number
of States and countries represented among the passengers
on board a steamship. Besides those from America, in-
cluding some from North Carolina, New York, Tennessee,
Kentucky, Missouri, Illinois, New Jersey, Texas, Canada,
and perhaps some other States, there are some from Eng-
^land, Scotland, Ireland, France, Germany, Australia, and

^ some other nationalities which do not now occur to me.
GO This variety soon becomes quite monotonous, however, and

^ there is very great need of something to stir us up. But

p0 there is one couple on board who affords amusement for all.

Q Everybody else soon becomes acquainted, and it is not long

Q^ ere we are like one great family.

grj These two individuals do not know anybody, nor does
anybody know them. Judging from appearances, I should

4 A Trip Abroad.

flay they are newly married, for they seem to live entirely
for themselves, to themselves, and by themselves. But how
they ever came to get married is still a mystery to me, ex-
cept that I remember that there is a law of nature that
^* opposites attract" In appearance, they are as opposite as
the poles. He looks to be about fifty, is 'quite tall and stout
and awkward, and — (I don't mean to be personal in my
remarks, but) — upon the whole, he reminds me of a Shang-
hai chicken with the gout. She is very low, pale, tl\in and
slender, and reminds me more of a "bantam" in her move-
ments tbari anything else. And taking them both together,
I cannot help thinking of an old hen with one chicken.
This, too, soon becomes monotonous, and there is need to
look out for something else of interest.

The next thing in order is sea-sickness; for scarcely have
we gotten out of sight of land when it becomes my pleasant (?)
duty, among many others to "feed the fish" or, in other words
to "pay tribute to Neptune" I need,not remind you that this
very quickly becomes monotonous, for it is not long before I
am called on for " tribute" when the treasury is quite empty.
But others do so, and I suppose I must, too. We have
splendid weather nearly all the way, it raining only one or
two days, and there is but one really foggy day. The moon
is approaching the full, and some of the loveliest nights I
ever witnessed are given us. It seems a pity to sleep them
away.

On the fourth day, the attention of all is directed to an ob-
ject in the northeast, which we-find to be a huge iceberg.
The vessel has gone considerably out of its course south to
avoid the ice, but this one has strayed off to this great dis-
tance. Its beauties in the dazzling sunlight are diflScult to
portray.- With snow-white base and pearly spires, it raises
its pinnacles high in the air like angel fingers pointing up-
ward to the throne of Him who is the source of all purity, as
if to say ; — " The sea is His, and He made it."

Another interesting feature is the vast schools of porpoises

Crossing the Atlantic. 5

which so often environ the boat in companies of thousands
and hundreds of thousands, so that the whole ocean is alive
with them for miles and miles, — pitching, jumping, plung-
ing, gliding as if in a rage of fury. Nor can I fail to men-
tion the swarms of stormy petrels, or "Mother Carey's
chickens," which are to be seen every day while crossings
With untiring wings they flit hither and thither over the
waves, like bees among the blossoms of spring, yet never
stopping to rest, though from 1,000 to 1,500 miles from land.
Numbers of gulls are to be seen, too, out in mid-ocean, but
' they are quite small, and, when tired, perch upon the waves
and float gracefully amidst their foaming caps until rested*

After eleven long days, we see coming to meet us a large
gull. This indicates the near approach to land. Nor are
we sorry, for one soon becomes satisfied with sea-life. Only
a few hours later and the air is full of these beautiful birds,
which follow us until we reach Liverpool, picking up the
particles of food dropped from the vessel. They are about
twice the size of pigeons, and the color of the back varies
from that of a light slate or pale brown, to a cream color,
very delicate; and the breast is almost snow-white, while
the wings are fringed with a velvet-like brown.

At last the welcome sound of "Land 1 land II" is heard,
and we strain our eyes to see the joyous sight, when the rock-
bound shores of " Auld Ireland" comes to view, and we coast
along its verdant hills to Queenstown^ where the mail is left,
and we then go round through the channel to Liverpool,
which we reach aboutj five o'clock the next afternoon.

On shipboard I have the good fortune to meet a gentleman,
the Rev. W. B. Palmore, of Jefferson City, Mo., a Methodist
minister, who, I find, wants to take pretty much the same
trip that I do. So we enter into an agreement, map out our
route and go together nearly the whole time of my stay.

At Liverpool we have some time to walk around before
dark, for, though it is now nine o'clock P. M., one can see
very well to read a newspaper without the aid of gas light I

6 A Trip Abroad.

We stroll into the " Walker Art Gallery," where we find a
good many paintings 6f elegance and beauty. The speci-.
mens of statuary, too, are very fine, especially a bust of Her
Majesty, Queen Victoria. The gong soon sounds, apprising us
of the fact that the hour for closing the doors has arrived. We
next make our way along one of the principal streets, and
seeing an unusually agitated crowd we make our way thither
just in time to see the closing scene of a wonderful drama, —
two women fighting. Don't know that we ought to feel spe-
cially surprised at this, for from the ruddy appearance of
every one we meet, we are forced to the conclusion that these
are high-blooded people.

At 7:20 the next morning, we take the cars for London.
What cars 1 1 They are divided into from four to five com-
partments, each compartment to hold eight or ten persons,
one half facing each way, and each compartment separated
from the others by a partition reaching to the top of the car.
The doors are at the sides of the cars and at the ends of each
compartment. We get in, the conductor (or guard, as they
call him,) shuts the door, locks us in and takes his departure.
We want some water, but there is none to be had, for the cars
have none of the conveniences attached to American cars.
So we must sit on and tough it out until we reach our desti-
nation.

Everything is green I The crops of grain are not yet
ripe, and the clover fields are blossoming in their beauty.
Even the railroad embankments are terraced, and not a
foot of the soil can be seen for the luxuriant growth of
grass. The farm-houses are all of brick, the land cultivated
to the very topmost pitch of possibility, every available foot
being under cultivation. Canals and railroads form a com-
plete net-work in some sections through which we pass, and
for the first time in our lives wo see a little canal-boat drawn
by a horse with a woman as driver. The air is black with
the smoke which rises from the almost innumerable manu-
facturing towns which lie along our way.

Farming in England. 7

The country roads are not allowed to cross the railroads
upon the same level, but must eithfir go under or build a
bridge over them. This is a good idea, as it prevents acci-
dents which so frequently occur along our lines of railroad.
Another excellent thing is, that the roads are worked by
taxation and are almost as smooth and level as a floor.

The farmers have the most elegant way of preserving
tlieir hay, vast quantities of which are raised, I have yet

ENGLISH FARM SCENE.

seen. They put it up in huge stacks, shaped just like a
house, and thatch the top of it exactly as they do the roofs
of houses whi3h I afterwards see on the Continent. They
have scarcely any fences, except those made of hedges, vast
numbers of which are to be 6een in every field. Tlie sheep,
which are raised in great numbers, have the names or
initials of their owners marked on their backs in large red
letters. They seem to be less tenderly cared for than those

8 A Trip Abroad.

noticed later in some of the other countries visited. Here
we are at

LONDON,

the great metropolis of the world. The vast extent of ter-
ritory covered by this great sea of houses is almost beyond
our power of comprehension. I am told that one may take
Oxford, one of the principal streets, and drive twenty-six
miles virtually in the same direction ! When we say that
there are four millions inhabitahts within the corporation, we
get a poor conception of the size of London, for there are
two millions more who live in the suburbs I Truly, Lon-
don is a world within itself I

CHAPTER 11.

THE SUNDAY-SCHOOL CENTENARY.

\

I must confess myself a little disappointed in the general
appearance of the Convention already in session. It is not
nearly so intelligent a looking body as was gathered at At-
lanta, Ga., two years ago at the International Sunday-school
Convention. Nor is it as large by far. And yet there is a
great deal of zeal manifested, and deep interest pervades all
the exercises. Fourteen nationalities are represented, in
several of which the Sunday-school work is in its infancy.
Indeed Europe is from twenty-five to fifty years behind
America in this respect. They are but just learning the al-
phabet, so to speak. I am one day and a half late in my
arrival, and consequently miss a part of the exercises, which
is a source of regret. The exercises consist of the usual dis-
cussions and debates upon the position, prospects, work, ob-
ject, etc., of the Sunday-school. Reports are made from

Sunday School Centenary. 9

France, Sweden, Germany, Austria, Italy, Switzerland, Hol-
land, Denmark, Belgium, the United States, Canada, Eng-
land, Scotland and Nova Scotia. The statements show very
great advancement made and are calculated to encourage
those engaged in the work. The speaker from Denmark
tells us that the Baptists were the first to meet >iith any suc-
cess in the Sunday-school work in that country, in 1845.
Now they have 100 schools in little Denmark and 2,000 at-
tendants. Belgium is so strongly Roman Catholic that they
make but very slow progress. Holland has 100,000 scholars,
while Germany comes up with her 2,000 schools and 200,000*
pupils ; and the speaker tells us that the Princes and Prin-
cesses teach in the Sunday-school. Those from the United
States who take the most active part, are Dr. John Hall, of
New York, Dr. J. H. Vincent, New York, and John Wana-
maker, of Philadelphia.

I need not say that one of the features of the meetings
which I do not enjoy is the " United Communion Service.'^
Quite a number of us American Baptists are here, and we at-
tend this novel meeting, but Lave back-bone enough not to
take any part in the exercises. This is the only thing I nee
in Mr. Spurgeon to criticise. He begins his address with-a
defence of his course, which I must say is a very puny effort.
The address is excellent and characteristic of its author.
The theme : " Jesus and Jesus Only," is made the teacher's
watchward. I cannot do the speaker justice, for his burning
words of eloquence are so full of zeal and earnestness, that to
try to give a conception of their force is but to fail. He
speaks of Jesus as of a familiar friend and an elder brother.
I hope to speak more fully of Mr. Spurgeon's manner here-
after. The unveiling of the statue of Robert Eaikes is an-
other item of interest. This is done by the Right Honora-
ble the Earl of Shaftesbury, who takes a very active part in all
benevolent enterprises with which he comes in contact, aid-
ing very liberally with his own means. But the most im-

10 A Trip Abroad.

pressive exercise to me is the Grand Fete and Demonstra-
tion at

CRYSTAL PALACE.

There are five thousand or more who participate in the sing-
ing, which surpasses anything I have ever heard. The deep,
almost thunder tones of the tremendous organ are drowned
completely as this immense throng rises as if by clock-work
and pours forth thrilling, soul-stirring music. They say
there are sixly or seventy thousand persons present and for
^an hour or more they are held " spell-bound." I shall never
forget this sea of eager, upturned faces, as they drink in the
melodious notes as they roll through the balmy air.

Crystal Palace is a magnificent building — the first glass
house ever erected. It was first built in Hyde Park, ten
miles from its present location, for the purposes of the
World^s Fair in 1851. After this it was sold and removed
to its present site. Its magnitude and splendid proportions
are such as to call forth the wonder and admiration of every
visitor. It covers several acres, having long projecting wings
at the ends, each crowned with a circular tower, (all of glass,)
apparently 150 or 200 feet high, perhaps more. The main
building is three or four stories high, with an elegant oval
roof, extending from end to end, while a huge cross-section
in the center, with its end fronting the park and being the
principal entrance, comes in to beautify the whole. Within
are bazaars, for the sale of every conceivable kind of toys and
fancy work, specimens of art, statuary, paintings, articles
of merchandise of every variety, as well as curiosities from
every nation under heaven. I am as much amused at a
Japanese display of comic wax work, as anything I see. The
figures are a little less than life size, and represent family
quarrels, fights between husbands and wives, the jealousies
of human nature and their consequences, the most hideous
faces, hair-pullings, teasings, ticklings, disputings, etc., etc.
Nature has done much to beautify the lovely grounds, and

American Exchange. 11

besides this, art has lent her lavish hand and has doubly en-
hanced the beauty of all. There are rich, verdant tropical
plants, fine specimens of rare evergreens, lovely foliage
plants, and flowers in varieties without number. And as I
stroll over the grass, so soft, sa green, I am constrained to
exclaim, "All things are beautiful I"

Am about to forget to mention my stopping-place, which is
so nice and convenient. It is at Barnett's Hotel, 39 Craven
street, on the Strand, within one block of Trafalgar Square,
the National Art Gallery, the American Exchange, the grand
centre for all the principal omnibus lines, (which I find to
be the most convenient, and by far the cheapest way of
traveling), within ten minutes' walk of the Parliament
Buildings, Westminster Abbey, and almost immediately
upon the celebrated " Thames Embankment." ,

The kindness, politeness and attention of Mr. Henry F.
Gillig, manager of the American Exchange, deserve special
mention. In connection with his business, he has estab-
lished a reading-room, to which most of the principal papers
of America go. But for this, can't see what we poor Ameri-
cans would do for news from home, for these English papers
devote only about two inches in one obscure column to our
great American Republic I To an ignorant casual reader it
would appear that the United States were some little ob-
scure island in the far-off ocean. Am not at all surprised
at the want of information on the part of the populace
with reference to our gjeat country. A gentleman has
been telling me of some of his experience in this direction.
He was asked where he was from. He replied, "From
America." " America, America ?" repeated the questioner,
" where is America ?" The gentleman asked him if he had
never heard of America. He replied, " No." " Well," said
he, " did you ever hear of New York?" " yes," was the
response. He also knew of Boston and Philadelphia. Then
he further asked how many inhabitants there were in
America. On being told forty-five or fifty millions, he

12 A Trip Abroad.

started back and exclaimed, " Whee-oo-ee ! !" evidently
thinking that America was a tremendous city on the coast
of Bostouy New York or Philadelphia!/ Happy thought
this that strikes me, that Americans are not the only fools
in the world.

Here we are at St. PauFs, the St. Peter's of England. It
is indeed a mammon th piece of workmanship. 'Twas the
architect, Sir Christopher Wrenn, who, after his work was
finished, had this inscription written over his remains: " If
you would see my monument, look around you." A great
many of the leading men of England are interred beneath
this huge dome. Why, here is the tomb of Wellington (in
the crypt) made of porphyry, while just opposite is that of
Lord Nelson, of Quincy granite from Massachusetts, and a
handsome thing, too. Here, also, are the remains of Sam-
uel Johnson, John Howard, Henry Hallam, Benjamin
West, and many other such noted characters. Here is the
hearse on which Wellington's body was conveyed through
the streets of London, at his decease. It is cast of cannon
metal, made from cannon taken by Wellington in his bat-
tles ; and the casting alone cost $6&,000. It is covered with
drapery the most elaborate, all trimmed with beads and
exquisite fringe. They certainlj^ do hold in very high
esteem the memory of Wellington and Nelson. But we
must go up to the top and take a glimpse from there. In
the ascent we pass the clock I— which takes a stout young
man (so " they say ") three-quarters of an hour to wind,
using a large crank like that of a grind-stone, with both
hands. I think the keeper says that one of the weights
weighs seven hundred pounds, while the pendulum weighs
eighty-five pounds. There are two huge cast-iron figures
which stand by one of the bdls and strike the hours with
heavy sledge-hammers. The ticking sounds like the strokes
of a small hammer.

What a scene opens to us from the top of the dome I As
far as vision can reach, there is a perfect sea of houses, and

• London and its Attkactions. 13

O, what a din arises from the thronged streets below ! It
sounds almost like distant thunder. Men and horses look
like toys walking about, and the steamers and locomotives
ploughing and crossing the Thames appear as playthings,
so great are the height and distance from which they are
seen. The chimneys, which look like bricks scattered over
a desert of housetops, send up an enormous volume of
smoke, and the smaller church-towers, partially enveloped
in this cloudy stick up like masts in a dock-yard. The
streets, at a distance, have something of the appearance of
the tracks going out from a large ant-bed, so crowded are
they, and the Thames sparkles in the dazzling sunlight like
a stream of burnished gold, interrupted in its brilliancy
only by the busy steamers and multitude of bridges which
span its restless waters.

CHAPTER III.

THE THAMES EMBANKMENT.

One of the most celebrated parts of London is the " Thames
Embankment," which, only a few years ago, was nothing
more than the rough, undulating, muddy, sloping bank on
the northern side of the river, but has since been filled in
and made almost as level as a floor. It has a solid granite
wall bordering immediately upon the water's edge, is nearly
twenty feet* above the high water mark and about four feet
above the level of the beautifuj drive of which it is made a
part. Along this place, so beautified by the rows of button-
wood trees, on the side next the city and opposite the river,
are rich gardens of rare flowers and splendid evergreens. In
the midst of one of these is the statue of Robert Raikes,
erected by the Sunday School Union, which has the follow-

14 A Trip Abroad.

ing inscription upon its pedestal, which is eight or ten feet
high :

" Robert Raikes, Founder of Sunday Schools, 1780. This
statue was erected under the direction of the Sunday School
Union by contributions from teachers and scholars of Sun-
day Schools in Great Britain, 1880." Of course we don't be-
lieve this, for there were Sunday Schools in the time of
Christ, into which he "entered on the Sabbath day and
taught." This embankment is from fifty to one hundred
feet wide, and one or two miles long.

Just opposite the statue of Raikes is the famous " Cleo-
patra's Needle,'^ a solid granite shaft about forty feet long,
apparently, and three feet square at the base by about two
at the top. It is placed upon the wall already described,
with a representation of tho " Sphinx," on either side. It was
brought from Egypt some twelve months ago, being pur-
chased by the English government at considerable cost.
Upon it are engraved various figures with hieroglyphics, a
translation of which can be had in a little pamphlet to be
bought near the place. It is said to be three thousand or
more years old, and in spite of me, solemn feelings play in
my breast, for it may be that this very stone was to be seen
near Pharaoh's palace in the times of Moses. Nor are we
quite certain that poor Joseph did not look upon its richly
carved face. Be this as it may, the size of the shaft itself is
an enormity, all in one piece and shows what skill and me-
chanical operations must have been brought to bear, in order
to erect such a stone upwn the base on which it originally
stood.

Near by is Waterloo Bridge, while just above are Charing
Cross and Westminster bridges, and, a little below, London
Bridge and nearly a dozen niore, for the Thames is spanned
by a bridge every few hundred yards. I am forcibly
reminded, as I pass over the spacious arches of London
Bridge, of what Lord Macaulay said in his flight of imagi-
nation, when he pictured, in the distant future, an inhabi-

London and its Attractions. 15

tant of one of the islands of the far off sea coming on a pil-
grimage to London and standing on one of the arches of
London Bridge, while viewing the ruins of what is now the
grand metropolis of the world. This seems very improbable
to us, but Julius Caesar would have thought no less so of
Rome in his day.

A ride on the top of an omnibus along Victoria Street
gives us a good view of the splendid stone buildings which,
we are told, are the dwellings of the dukes and duchesses of
the realm. Oh ! they are so handsome ; and the rich lace
curtains, which hang in graceful folds around the windows
in which sit vases containing rare specimens of lovely flow-
ers, form a gaudy frame-work for the pictures of elegant
furniture displayed within. As we pass along we come in
view of the highest dwelling 1 have yet seen. It is fourteen
stories high ! And the driver tells me that there are people
living on every story to the top I This looks very much like
living among the clouds.

But let us stop a while and peep in, for here we stand at

WESTMINSTER ABBEY.

It is the hour for morning prayers, and there is chanting
and the voice of supplication heard within. The music is
good and the organ grand, but such worship! The leader of
the prayer stands as he reads it from the book, and watches
people as they come and go, while the choir sing their re-
sponsive " Amens." Am I viler than any one else? If so, I
deeply ^eplore my vileness; but I cannot feel one particle of
worshipful feeling in my breast, for those who pretend to be
praying have their eyes open, and besides looking around
upon the vast audience of eager strangers who have dropped
in to see how the "church of England" worships, pay very lit-
tle if any attention to the prayers as they are read, and only
occasionally sing out, "Amen !" I said just now that the leader

16 A Trip Abroad.

reads his prayers. This is a mistake, for he sings them from
a book. In fact, they sing everything they do here.

This done let us take a glimpse at the building and its
curiosities. The outside presents very much the same ap-
pearance as that represented in pictures of it which you have
seen. It is nearly a thousand years old, and occupies the
site upon which a congregation has been worshiping (?) for
fifteen hundred years. It will seat nearly seven thousand,
is six hundred and fifty or seven hundred feet long, and is
supported by vast columns which stand in various parts of
the main audience room. Every niche and corner is full of
statuary— statues of poets, statesmen, priests and kings. The
seats are very plain, — nothing but wooden benches or pews.
There are a great many things of special interest in the
crypt. We find here the last resting place of Macaulay,
Dickens, Addison, Sam'l Johnson, Lady Jane Grey's mother,
Mary Queen of Scots, George of Denmark, Oliver Cromwell,
as well as of thirteen kings and fifteen queens, all who have
lived (so "they say") for the past twelve hundred years,
and many other distinguished individuals " too tedious to
mention." The last interment of special interest was that of
Sir Rowland Hill, in 1879. We see displayed, too, the ban-
ners of the " Knights of the Bath." Here, also, is the tomb
of Queen Eleanor, of wrought iron, made by an English
blacksmith in 1293 A. D. The most remarkable tomb we
see is that of Elizabeth Nightingale, carved from solid mar-
ble and represents the grim monster, death, in the form of a
skeleton emerging from the grave and hurling a javelin at
the lovely form as it rests in her husband's arms. But by
far the most wonderful thing 1 meet is the stone on which
Jacob laid his head the night of his vision of the ladder and
the angels (??) "They say" there is no doubt about it, and
bring tradition history and prophecy to prove it. Of course
I believe it all, and so must you. This stone was carried to
Ireland by the Prophet Jeremiah and " two of the king's
daughters." It was carried to Scotland at the time of the

London and its Attractions. 17

conquest of Ireland by Scotland and was used as the coro-
nation stone on which the kings and queens of Ireland and
Scotland were crowned for two thousand years ! In the year
A. D. 1296, it was brought by Edward I. to England, and
since that time has been kept as a precious relic, for it ful-
fills the prophecy which says : — " Wheresoever the stone is,
there also shall the kingdom be," the three kingdoms being
merged into one government since that day.

tussaud's art gallery.

A visit to London is incomplete without seeing the fa-
mous wax-works of Madame Tussaud and Sons. There are
in this extensive exhibition nearly three hundred life size
wax figures and relicts of great interest, including those of
most of the crowned heads of Europe with their families,
chief attendants, and many distinguished statesmen and
orators in Europe and America. A mere catalogue of their
names would be sufficiently long to fill a chapter, and so I
am shut up to a very short sketch of the most interesting.
So life-like are these elegant portrayals of the human form,
that it is with much difficulty that one can distinguish the
living visitors (liundreds of whom crowd to this interesting
hall every day) from the specimens of art so tastily attired
and arranged. And about the only unpleasant part of it
all is, that one frequently, while gazing earnestly at the
beauties of some skilfully executed piece of work, stum-
bles over the gawdy trail of a female form, and finds him-
self apologizing to — a piece of wax !

The first figure at the entrance in the hall is that of Mad-
ame Tussaud, and so perfect is it that one imagines he is
meeting a sure-enough lady ready to make her way out upon
the street. " Madame T. was a native of Berne, in Switzer-
land : at the age of six years she was sent to Paris and placed
under the care of her uncle, M. Curtius, (artist to Louis XVI.)
by whom she was instructed in the fine arts, of which he was
2

18 A Trip Abroad.

an eminent professor. She spent a great deal of her time at
the Tuileiies and at Versailles, where she had the best op-
portunities of becoming acquainted with the nobility and
talent of the French Courts, besides being occupied exe-
cuting many commands.

In 1802 she left France, and from that period exhibited
her collection of figures in the principal cities and towns of
Great Britian and Ireland. She died in 1850."

Just after passing this figure, there is to be seen one of
Charles Dickens. He stands near the inner door, as if in
charge of the establishment, and so perfect a representation
of humanity is it, that my friend, who preceded me some
time, tells me that he stopped and was just about to hand
*Hhe gentleman" his ticket, which he purchased at the outer
door, thinking him to be doorkeeper. Next comes a perfect
likeness of George Washington, judging from the portraits I
liave seen of him. Here, too, is General Havelock, with the
-uniform ©f a British General, wearing the Order of the Bath ;
Lord Napier of Magdala; "Nasserdin Chah Kadjar," the
Shah of Persia, Lord Laurence, Governor-General of India,
Ui costume of civil commissioner, who was elevated to the
peerage in 1869 ; Lord Lytton, in Robes of the Order of Star
of India; Yakoob Khan, present Ameer of Afghanistan,
Nelson, Wellington, "Her Most Gracious Majesty, The
Queen," Victor Emmanuel, — in fact almost all the princi-
pal characters of the world. But perhaps the most charac-
teristic of all is the figure of Voltaire and the Coquette. The
poorest, I think, are those of Presidents Lincoln, Johnson
and Grant.

In the midst of all these enchanting scenes, doubly beau-
tified by flowers and enhanced by music which is rendered
by a splendid string band, I am transported to America in
the twinkling of an eye, from the sight of a colored indi-
vidual, who dissipates the heat by pulling a huge fanning
machine, used for ventilation. Nor is this all ; for just here
with President Lincoln is the figure of a slave; as natural as

London and its Attractions. 19

if the President had just broken his shackles and loosed
him. Oh, I can't tell it all! So let us just take a general
glimpse at the points of special interest.

Here sits an old gentleman on a divan, wearing spectacles.
He moves his head back and forth, from one side of the
room to the other, as if eyeing the persons who quietly move
about the hall, so rich with artistic beauty. Just imagine a
green American taking a seat by the venerable old man and
asking him questions pertaining to the items of interest in
the room, only to be treated with silent contempt by the
spectacled sage, who simply turns his head away without
deigning to answer. Such conduct is quite unaccountable
to one who was born in the backwoods, and accustomed to
speaking to every one he meets, friend or stranger. His dis-
gust might find vent in something more than words, were it
iiot that he finds, on closer examination, that this man, too,
is nothing more than a lump of wax. See this group of
eager, anxious lookers-on J What can be the matter ? On ap-
proaching, I find a female form which is stretched upon a
couch, pale as death and slowly breathing, as if life were al-
most extinct. "What is the matter?" "Has she fainted?"
*'Is she dying?" " Why doesn't some one call in the physi-
cian ?" " Oh, this is only a wax figure, representing Madame
St. Amaranthe," is the only reply. Such chagrin ! But then
nobody knows me, and after I get out of sight, these people
will never see me again. It isn't so bad after all. And yet
I am puzzled to know bow they make wax look so much
like a real, leaving, breathing, blushing, (in some cases)
walking human being.

Why here sits Mary Queen of Scots, as if prepared for the
execution, with the rosary she held when beheaded three
hundred years ago, slipped through her hand and fallen on
the floor. See, too, the delicate forms of Jane Grey, Marie
Antoinette, Anne Boleyn, Catharine Howard, Joan of Arc,
and several others whose sad fate was sealed by the execu-
tioner. Let us look into the " Golden Chamber." " Here is

20 A Trip Abroad.

the bed on which Napoleon breathed his last, with the bloocJ-'
stains made by the lancet, vainly used to give relief in hi»
last hours, from the pain of that cancer of the stomach which
consumed him;, the cloak he wore at Marengo; his watch,
stopped at 2:30, the moment of his death ; his other garments^
his favorite garden chair ; the atlas in which he drew hi&
battle plans;, the carriage in which be rode to the disasters
of Russia and Waterloo. Here are the garments of Nelson,,
worn at the battle of the Nile, and those of Henry of
Navarre, when stabbed by Ravaillie, dyed with the blood
of the martyred king.

And now we stand at the entrace of the " Chamber of
Horrors." It is night, (the best time to see the figures is
by gas light,) and the chamber is dimly lighted with glim-
mering, flickering tapers, which make me feel as if I am en-
tering the regions of the dead. I grope my way around
among the ghostly forms, and bleeding heads, and foul im-
plements of torture and death, gazing with horror at the
hideous spectacles which greet me on every side.

Here is John Paul Marat, one of the atrocious leaders of
the French Revolution; here the sanguinary demagogue^
Robespierre; here Mary Ann Cotton, the cold-blooded mur-
deress, who killed husbands, a»d children " with the uncon-
cern of a farm-girl killing poultry" ; here Mrs. Catherine
Wilson, " the* Poisoner ;" here Ihimollard and wife, who
lived by decoying young women, " under the pretence of
getting them situations, into a wood near Lyons and bru-
tally murdering them, and taking all that they bad, and
then burying them." Seventeen or eighteen fell victims to
these fiends, before they were detected,

I cannot leave without a glimpse at the gallows which
was designed by John Thurtell, whose love for gambling led
him to commit tlie murder of Mr. Weare, under circum-
stances of great atrocity; and "the most extraordinary relic
in the world, — a melancholy relic of the first French Revo-
lution, the original Knife and Lunette^ the identical instru-

London and its Attractions. 21

ment that decapitated twenty-two thousand persons, amongst
whom were the unfortunate Louis XVL, Marie Antoinette,
Madame Elizabeth, the Duke of Orleans, Robespierre, and
shed the best and worst blood of France/' — the guillotine.

CHAPTER IV.

THE BRITISH MUSEUM.

A visit to the British Museum fills one with rather min-
gled feelings. The establishment is so enormous that an
idea of even trying to see the things of greatest interest
seems preposterous. It was founded by an act of Parlia-
ment in 1753, which authorized the purchase of the " Catto-
nian Library,'' presented to Great Britian in 1700. In the
department of Printed Books, there are 1,300,000 volumes
containing works written on every topic imaginable, and
specimens of the languages of every nation under heaven.
In connection with this there are, in the Manuscript Saloon,
ancient and illuminated manuscripts, bindings, autograph
letters, charters and seals, numbering 50,000 volumes.
Among them are some very interesting specimens, some of
them more than a thousand years old. Here is a record of
the grants made by Hodilredus or Eth-elred, a kinsman of
Sebbi, King of Essex, in the year A. D. 692- d. Also some
by Edgar Canute, and Edward the Confessor, in 961, 1031,
and 1045. Why there is the copy-book of Elizabeth when
she was a girl, and of Charles I. when a boy ; the original
draft of the will of Mary Queen of Scots, dated 1577 ; letters
written by Shakespeare, Luther, Calvin, Melancthon, Eras-
mus, Cranmer, Sir Thomas Moore, John Knox, William
Penn, Walter Raleigh, Bacon, Isaac Newton, Michael
Augelo, Galileo, Dryden, Byron, Swift, Washington, and

22 A Tkip Abroad.

one written by Nelson to Lady Hamilton on the eve of the
battle of Trafalgar, Oct. 21st, 1805. It was found open and
unfinished at his death. Besides these, there are letters
from almost every person of note from the year A. D. 600
down to the present.

And then you can see, in the Department of Drawing,
portraits, etc., without number; in the Department of Antiq-
uities, specimens of sculpture, vases, terracottas, bronzes,
coins, medals, etc., from all the ancient kingdoms, civilized
and uncivilized ; in the Departments of Natural History —
Zoology, Geology, Mineralogy, Botany and Physiology, —
every insect, beast, bird and fish, of which the history of the
present day furnishes any account, all stufi^ed or preserved
in alcohol, so as to look as natural as if breathing. To speak
of the fossils and minerals would be to begin an endless tale»
In fact, I feel as if I want to spend six months here to study
nature. And it can be profitably done by those who have
the time and money. Unfortunately, I have neither. So
with a feeling of despair at seeing even a majority of the
things of interest, I must bid adieu to this world of wonders.

What a line of cabs I What number is that I see ? 1062 1
— I inquire of the driver what the highest number of cabs
is, and am informed that there are fourteen thousand, be-
sides the carriages, coaches, omnibuses^ etc. Every street is
lined with them, and in some places they are so numerous
that the vast concourse of people can scarcely move for
them. It looks like *' court week** all the time here> and on
every street !

A walk around to the building and rooms of the Sunday
School Union, at 56 Old Bailey, is very much enjoyod. They
have vast supplies of Sunday school and evangelical litera-
ture for sale, and some very fine works. Why there sits the
pulpit of John Bunyan, kept as a relic by the officers of the
Union.

The pleasure of our visit is very much enhanced by the
presence and kind attention of Mr. Samuel J. Fall, so long

London and its ATTRAcnoNS. 23

and so favorably known in North Carolina, especially
among the order of Good Templars.

Mr. Fall is at present acting as Emigration Agent for
North Carolina in Great Britain, under the auspices of the
Bureau of Agriculture, located in Raleigh. A little visit to
his home at Wellingborough convinces me of the magni-
tude of the undertaking in which he is engaged and which
he is so successfully pushing. He tells me of several fami-
lies whom he has gotten to consent to come to our good old
State, as soon as they can arrange their business so as to
start. Two of these families I have had the pleasure of
meeting, and am delighted with them. The correspondence
of Mr. F. too, is quite extensive, in his efforts to banish the
prejudice among the people against the South, which has
been so excited by the speeches and publications of northern
fanatics. His success is quite encouraging, as the letters he
shows me indicate ; and the time is not far distant, when, if
properly sustained by the Department, I predict very happy
results arising from his labors ; for his efforts are toward in-
ducing men of meanisand influence to come to our "good
old North State."

It is now twelve o'clock M., and we will step into the City
Temple, where Dr. Parker, the noted Congregationalist
minister, preaches every day at noon. This is truly a com-
modious and handsome building. The organ is immense.
The congregation is very good notwithstanding the rain
which falls in torrents. The church is elegantly painted
and decorated, and has painted around the gallery (which
extends all around the house) in large gilt letters, the
names of several prominent men, such as John and Charles
Wesley, John Bunyan, Oliver Cromwell, the Newtons, and
some others. The organ music is what they call artistic,
and every one joins in the singing, for each one has a book
furnished. The minister, a stout, fine-looking man, with
curly hair and an intelligent face, looks as if he should have
better sense than to dress and act as he does. He wears a

24 A Trip Abroad.

Geneva woman's gown, which is even more unseemly than
the robe of the Episcopal clergy, and keeps his hair long,
somewhat like the custom in the days of Charles I. and II.
His discourse under different circumstances would be very
aflFecting, for the diction is good, the delivery fine and the
language witty and truly eloquent. But he rolls his eyes,
flaunts his head about, and puts on airs in quite a disgust-
ing manner, at least to a green American, This spoils it all.
But I am not surprised at any of it when I hear his history.
At first he was a Methodist, and offered himself to the Con-
ference for the ministry, but, there being no immediate call
for his services, he was rejected. He then went over to the
Congregationalists, who received him and put him into the
pulpit. He is evidently a talented man, — but perhaps I
have gone too far already, for the Bible says, " Judge not."

Night is upon us. We hear the music of a skillful brass
band in the distance, as we pass St. James' Park. We take
a stroll through its spacious borders and along its lovely
walks. 'Tis here that we see some of the outside life of
London. The walks are lined with seats. These are occu-
pied by persons of both sexes. Men and women, young
girls and youths, all seated along, two and two, four and
four, seem to vie with each other in their daring positions
of lust and indecency. Daring, I say, because they seem to
care nothing for each other, nor for the presence of passers-by.
Such a den of perdition is this, that a virtuous, high-minded
man does not feel at all at his ease amid such surroundings.
God forbid that our Southern cities should ever be scourged
with such a curse !

Come, now, and let's take a ride down the Thames from
Westminster Bridge. But be careful as you pass these
crowded streets, lest you be pressed out of shape by the
throng, run over by the vehicles or crushed and trodden
under foot by the avalanche of moving humanity. " What
a tangle of bales and bags, of boxes and baskets, of canes
and chains, the adjuncts of busy traflBc in the world's throb|-

London and its Attractions. 25

bing centre." As we glide along the rippling stream on
one of the myriads of boats which plough her troubled wa-
ters, just cast your eye on either side and take a view of
what is going on upon the land. " Here are storehouses
and warehouses, steam mills and factories, fish-markets and
junk-shops, and crowds of coster- mongers, draymen, sailors,
carters, clerks, peddlers, and idlers of every hue and nation-
ality." Here are to be seen the American, the Swede, the
Dane, the Frenchman, the German, the Negro, all pushing
and crowding through the ceaseless, busy throng which
deepens and thickens as you pass along. Now we go ashore,
just above London Bridge, and not far away we find " Bil-
lingsgate Market," which is in the neighborhood of the
Bank of England. What quantities of fish ! What huge
specimens of '^ fish-ology P^ It looks as if old ocean had
been robbed of her limitless supply of living things.

We will turn aside for a minute and see what there is of
interest about the

TOWER OF LONDON,

" the most interesting building in the world, in many re-
spects. This royal fortress is a silent volume of English
history." At the gate we are met by something less than
one dozen "beef-eaters," mammoth men in English uni-
form, with medals and badges of red ribbon without num-
ber. The lapels of their coats are covered with them.
We are sent into a room where we hav3 to purchase two
tickets, one red, the other yaller, A crowd of about twenty
makes the party, and we are placed under the charge of
one of these interesting "beef-eaters." It falls to our lot to
be guided by one of these characters of Irish descent. He
is about six feel five, has a bottled red nose, something less
than the size of my fist, which is blooming now from the
effects of the pernicious king who evidently bears sway in
these parts — Alcohol I We pass along by " Traitor's Gate,"

26 A Trip Abroad.

to the white tower, and into the armory, where we find the
coats-of-arms for every generation since 1155 A. D. "'Ere
is the harmor of 'Enry the VIII !" shouts our guide. " What
did you say, sir ?" I ask. "Can't you hunderstand Hing-
lish ?" gasped he, as if ready to bite at ray head. " I said,
'ere is the harmor of 'Enry the Heighth ! Can you hun-
derstand that!" I need not tell you that I ask very few
other questions, but pay the utmost attention, so as to gain
some idea of what he is striking at. The room in which
are preserved some of the implements of torture, used in
the Spanish Inquisition, presents a good many things of
interest. Some of these are almost worn out from long and
constant use. Here is a pair of thumb-screws, used for
crushing the ends of thumbs, nails and all; here a block
from which scores of heads have fallen ; here is a model of
the " Rack," with whicli the unfortunate victims of the
fiendish rage of Roman Catholicism had their limbs torn
from their bodies. We must glance into the room in which
Mary was betrothed by proxy to Philip of Spain ; nor must
we pass unnoticed the chamber in which Sir Walter Ral-
eigh was imprisoned. Here is the place where two of the
wives of Henry VIII. suffered ; and here, in one of the
courts, is a spot marked with a small iron plate, to which
we are pointed as the place of execution of poor Anne
Boleyn. The engravings on the walls of Beacham Tower,
carved by the prisoners in confiaement, are truly interesting.
By far the most attractive part of the whole is the Jewel
House. Why, we can see here the crown of Her Most Gra-
cious Majesty, which, they say, contaiiis three thousand and
ninety jewels, valued at three millions pounds sterling, or fif-
teen millions dollars! Here, too, is the royal font, used alone
for the baptism {?) of the Prince of Wales. We can see his
crown, too, as well as that of Charles I. There are many more
such things, scepters, wands, &c., which are dazzling to the eye.
And yet they all lie here from year to year, and do nobody
any good, except to impress such wanderers as we poor Amer-

London and its Attractions. 27

icans are with the splendor of a royal court. A fire is kept
burning in the apartment all the time to prevent the jewels
from tarnishing in the dampness of the atmosphere.

POLYTECHNIC HALL.

At the Polytechnic Exhibition we are highly entertained
for some time, by the scientific displays, philosophic lec-
tures, splendid music and elegant panoramic views givea
for the entertainment of visitors.

The Zoological Gardens are said to be the most extensive
in the world. I don't know about this, but one thing I
know, there are some of the hugest,. most prodigious speci-
mens of elephants, hippopotamuses, giraffes, camels, rhi-
nocerosses, ostriches^ tapirs, <fec., &e., that my eyes have yei
fallen upon. The smaller animals are in varieties without
number.

CHAPTER V.

WINDSOR.

This, you know, is the favorite dwelling place of th&
Queen. She goes into London and visits other parts of the^
realm occasionally, but her abiding place is at Windsor
Castle. On our arrival- we find guides dressed in gay uni-
forms awaiting us f What an honor! First we are conducted
to the royal stables ! t Ijook here, is this the way they treat
Americans?

But we will pass this over, since we see the ladies and all
treated alike. So in we go, and first see the ^' forty greys'*
used by Her Majesty, next the roans, the sorrels, the bays,
the blacks, and last of all^ the old nag used by Queen Vic-

28

A Trip Abroad.

toria wh^n a young ladyl She is uow in her ^^ doiage,^^ is
quite childish and expects to be petted by every one who
passes. Then we visit the carriage rooms, where we find a

WINDSOR CASTLE.

score or more awaiting Her Majesty^s orders. I am about
to forget to mention that there are one hundred of the
horses I We walk through St. George's chapel, where we find
the tomb of Jane Sevmour, Henry VIIL and Charles I. al-

L0N1X>N AND ITS AtTKACTIONS, 29

though they claim that all the crowned heads for twelve
hundred years past rest under the roof of Westminster.

Passing through the portals, we come in sight of a beau-
tiful picture. In front, the castle lifts its mammoth tower
on high, while it places its base in the midst of a garden of
fragrant flowers and lovely foliage plants. Just behind us
is the cliff* on which the walls are built. We are led to a
flight of steps which lead to the top of the tower, and are in-
formed by the guide, who has been so attentive, that he can
go no further, but expects several shillings for his service l
Of course we must pay him, — can*t help it! But I certainly
do think this a strange way, that of so highly honoring us
with a uniformed guide and then making us pay for it!

To attempt a description of the scene which greets us afc
the top is but to make a failure. The mellow harvest fields,
the green pastures, the lowing herds that move slowly over
the lea, the beautiful windings of the Thames, the W^lsh
Highlands in the far west, the old church in the distance
which was built in the 7th century and where Gray wrote
his "Elegy on a Country Church Yard," the spot where the
"Merry Wives of Windsor'' ducked Sir John Falstaff*, Eton
College just over the stream, the Tower itself five hundred
years old— all, all conspire to make this not only one of the
most beautiful, but also one of the most romantic and inter-
esting places in Europe.

The Queen does not send us an invitation to dine with
her, simply because we have not let her know that we are
here. We keep silence, too, because one of the attendants
informs us that she wishes to go to London in the afternoon.
We have never yet seen a Queen and don't know how one
looks, so we make our way to the station to await her de-
parture. There is a room with elegant furniture awaiting
her arrival, the platform is all carpeted and everything is on
the tip of excitement, when a form comes dashing down on
a white horse, dressed " within an inch of his life," who, we
find, is John Brown — not of American notoriety — but the

30 A Trip Abroad.

Queen's pet. After several moments' anxious waiting, a
span of splendid bays com-es prancing up, pulling an ele-
gant carriage. A line of policemen throngs the way, so that
no one can get near Her Majesty. Finally, out she comes,
walks through the chamber, across the platform and into
the special train which was prepared for the purpose. The
Princess Beatrice accompanies her. I look and gaze until
my eyes almost pain me, and at last find out that she is
nothing but a woman J She wears a plain black dress, is
rather low and fleshy, moves quite gracefully, but has a sad
expression. Some one has well said, " Uneasy lies the head
that wears the crown," and I believe it.

The train glides smoothly away and is soon out of sight,
leaving an eager throng of anxious lookers-on gazing after
it. Her Majesty has not yet discovered our presence, so
dense is the crowd, and consequently does not invite us to a
seat.. So we decide to await the departure of the next train.

I have the privilege of attending on four different occa-
sions services conducted by

MR. SPURGEON,

the most wonderful man, perhaps, of this age. It is Sunday
morning, and the sun rises simply to be veiled by the dense
smoke and hazy atmosphere which, so much of the year,
environ the great metropolis. My way lies over West-
minster Bridge. The streets are not much crowded, for but
few people in London stir as early as this, even on week
days. There is unusual quiet this morning, the principal
interruption being the rumbling of an occasional omnibus
or cab, bearing a few of the faithful ones to the place of
worship — the Sunday school. A walk of three or four miles
brings me to the gate of

METROPOLITAN TABERNACLE,

a tremendous building, without any dispky of artistic

London and its Attractions. 31

beauty from the outside. The gates are all open and
throngs of children are pouring through them.

Being alone, I follow, and go through a side door into
the basement, a very large room, used for the sessions of the
Sunday school. It is so dark that the gas must needs be
lighted. The superintendent announces a hymn from a
little book which contains the words only, (somewhat on the
order of " Gospel Hymns and Sacred Songs,") pitches the
tune, and the music begins; — no instrument at all ! They
all try to sing — no, not all ; for (boys will be boys) there
are fifty or more urchins who are pinching, pulling, kick-
ing, and annoying each other generally, to the discomfort
of all. After the music, the Superintendent scolds some of
them, and even tells one that he will take him upon the
rostrum, unless he conducts himself more properly! As
might be expected, they pay but little attention to such
threats. The room is not carpeted, and, upon the whole,
presents quite a desolate appearance. The classes are ar-
ranged so as to have the faces of all to the teachers, who sit
in chairs at one side of the hollow square formed by the
benches. Among the teachers I see quite a number of mere
boys and girls. How they progress with their lessons I
know not, for the Superintendent comes around about the
time they get to work, and informs me that this is only the
primary department of the school, or the infant-class. The
sessions for the older scholars are in the afternoon. He in-
forms me of a prayer-meeting up stairs, in such a way as to
intimate that that would be a better place for me. I bow
good morning and make my exit.

Up stairs, in a back room, I find a dozen or twenty per-
sons, mostly aged, engaged in ivorship. Such earnest
prayers and talks one seldom hears. They all pray for the
pastor and the success of the word preached this day. A
good many are bathed in tears, as the earnest words of burn-
ing love fall from the lips of brother after brother, who
arises and tells what the Lord has done for him. The sing-

32 A Teip Abroad.

ing is poor, — worse than poor, — it is dragging, slurring,—
but how earnest! Strangers present are called on for a word
of cheer, or to lead in prayer. Ah ! what a privilege to pray
with such people, — ''the salt of the earth T As the meeting
closes and I make my way out into the audience room, I
think that I have found one of the keys to Mr. Spurgeon's
success. These people pray so fervently for him and the
preached word, and that just before the sermon.

Here I stand just under the pulpit. What a vast con-
course of people has already assembled. But still they
come I I look up and around, and the vast audience chamber,
and both the extensive galleries which extend entirely
around the room, one above the other, like a grand amphi-
theatre, are filling fast. The room is nearly the form of an
ellipse, and one in any part of the church can see almost
every one else. The pulpit is on a level with the first gal-
lery, and about fifteen or twenty feet above the main floor,
which rises as you go from the front, so as to give all a good
opportunity to see, as well as hear. The seating capacity of
the church is almost seven thousand, while fulJy one
thousand more can find standing room. The membership
is between six and eight thousand, and there are fourteen, I
think, who are now awaiting " the right hand of fellowship
after baptism."

All are excluded, but the members, until just ten minutes
before eleven, when the chief usher smacks his hands, the
doors are thrown open, and all who will may enter. This
is done to insure seats for all the members who are in good
time. Those who come late are treated as strangers, and
must get seats as they can, or stand up, as they sometimes
Lave to do. The room, galleries, aisles and all are now as
full as can be. The hand of the clock just over the pulpit
points to eleven. A back door on a level with the rear of
the first gallery noiselessly opens, a low, fleshy, stout, and
yet care-worn form enters, and glides down the steps to the
pulpit, and falls upon one knee, burying his face in his

London and its Attractions. 33

IianJs, while engaged in silent prayer. The low whispering
in the audience is all hushed and everything is as still
as death, and every eye is fixed upon the bending form
which is supplicating a throne of mercy. He rises, a
hymn is announced, the precentor, who stands by the side
of the minister, to the left, raises the tune, and not a voice
is silent, so far as I am able to judge, but mine. I cannot
sing for listening. All have books. The thrilling notes of
praise sound forth the glad hosannas, which make high
Heaven's arches ring with the melody of earnest hearts and
tuneful spirits! But, hush! Between the stanzas there is
heard a voice, clear, distinct, *' lining ouC^ the hymn. I have
never heard such hymn-reading. The soul-inspiring words
of the poet are furnished as if with barbed arrows, which
reach and pierce the heart of every listener. Again the
swelling chorus bursts forth in loud hallelujahs, which make
the welkin ring, and seera to fill all earth with heavenly
music. I can no longei* keep silence. The anthem floats
away on the passing breezes, and the solemn words, " Let
us now go to God in prayer," fall from the lips of the speaker,
and every head is bowed. Such a prayer! The piercing
tones of the anxious pleader ascend like morning incense,
and reach the hallowed portals of the heavenl}'*^ Jerusalem.
Many hearts of stone are melted, and weary pilgrims sob
aloud and eagerly cry " Amen !" Many a face is bathed in
tears, and many a throbbing heart is filled with ecstatic joy,
because of the presence of the Holy Spirit.

Wish I had timo and space to speak of the comments
on the passage read, and to give extensivo notes of the
sermon, which is so full of comfort, from Revelations
XXI : 6: "I will give unto him that is athirst of the foun-
tain of the water of life freely.^' This done, the vast audience
is dismissed. Hundreds of persons, with Bibles in hand,
make their way through th^ crowded aisles, hunting for
strangers, asking them of their souls' welfare, trying to per-
suade those who are unsaved to embrace the Saviour and

34 A Trip Abroad.

accept salvation on the terms of the gospel. To those who
are Ohristians, words of comfort and consolation are spoken^
and afforts are made to build them up in the faith- They
even follow them out in the streets, read passages of Scrip-
ture to them, and sometimes go with them to their homes,
or stopping places. How I wish all our church-members
could be imbued with such a spirit of zeal and good works.
Surely the Lord of the harvest would richly reward their
labors.

As the services are concluded at the (Shurches, the beer
shops and drinking saloons are thrown open, as so manj^
spider-webs, to catch the unsuspecting youths as they pass
along. Is there nothing that can be done to prohibit such
things? Is it possible that there are not enough high-
minded, upright men in the country to put down such
open, daring wickedness ?

In the afternoon there are two other sessions of the Sun-
day school which I attend. One is for the girls, and the
other for the young men and boys, together with the stu-
dents at Mr. Spurgeon's college. The exercises are right in-
teresting, but poorly conducted in comparison to the modes
used in America. The school numbers sixteen hundred
in all.

Thje church service in the evening is even more largely
attended than that of the morning, if possible. I get in a
little late, and find that there is no chance to enter any of
the front doors, not even of the galleries. I go to the rear
doors, meeting scores of persons'who can't gain admittance,
and crowd into the upper gallery, where I merely find stand-
ing room, and but little of that. But notwithstanding the
crowd, the voice of the speaker can be heard perfectly, in all
parts of the room. It seems to require no special effort on
his part, for his clear, soft, sweet voice rises in melodious ac-
cents, surpassing the eloquence of any orator I have ever
heard. I am told that he preaches to from six to eight thou-
sand persons twice every week, when his physical condition

From London to Paris. 35

will permit, besides his talks at the regular prayer-meetings
of the church. Indeed a member of another denomination
tells me that he always fills the house he preaches in to its
utmost capacity. If he preaches in one of the city halls
which will accommodate twenty thousand persons, it is filled.
Besides all this, and the work of his college and orphanage,
his sermons are published in pamphlet form at a cost of a
penny each, and are circulated weekly among thousands of
families who cannot attend his services. Nay, even more ;
they are largely sold in most of the towns and cities of
Europe, and to a large extent in America. Thus he preaches
to millions every week, and perhaps is doing more good
than any man living. He seems to enjoy sweeter com-
munion with God than any man I ever met. What a privi-
lege I feel it to be to shake his hand, upon the introduction
of one of the members, who has found out that I am a
Baptist.

CHAPTER VI.

FROM LONDON TO PARIS.

One thing in England reminds me of Eastern Carolina.
As we pass through the country, destitute of water courses,
we find numbers of old-fashioned wind-mills going over and
over like so many winding blades, and in the distance forci-
bly bringing to one's mind the perambulations of a squad-
ron of sand-fiddlers. The people are forced to this use of
wind-mills for grinding purposes, where they are unable to
employ the power of steam, owing to the level surface of
most parts of the country and the absence of water power,
and in some sections almost every farmer has his mill.

36 A Trip Abroad.

Suppose now we leave London for a while, and lake a lit-
tle trip over on the Continent. We take the ears at London
Bridge station, and soon find ourselves at New Haven, on
the British Channel. A small boat awaits the arrival of the
train, and as soon as the passengers are comfortably located,
we start. The wind is blowing a perfect gale, and the rain
is falling in unpleasant showers. Soon the little vessel
makes its way out of the harbor and we are tossed hither
and thither upon the rough billows, always unpleasant, but
now rendered immensely violent by the raging of the wind.
These sailors call it a gale! I call it a storm, for sometimes
it is quite difficult forme to decide which way we are going,
the little tug plunges so from side to side, from end to end.
We go out on deck to see the bay as we depart. Have to
hold with both hands to keep from falling overboard. The
wiser ones go down into the cabin and lie down. What
waves ! what breakers, surging against the little bark ! Oh,
doesn't she ride them gracefully ? How defiantly she rises
above their foam crested heads I

But, oh !. What is this I feel ? Have you ever been sea-
sick? Well, then, you know. Within a short time, every
one on board is " casting up accounts," and the fish have a
grand time.

Here is land again ! We swing our valises and stagger off.
This is Dieppe. We are in France, but the people nearly
^11 speak English. It is nearly night, is cloudy and raining.
We enter the cars and off we go. I try to sleep, but can't.
After going over a long line of railroad at almost lightning
speed, the train comes to a halt, about eleven o'clock P. M.,
and about the first sound I hear is " Parte P^ And here we
really are at

PARIS.

And now comes trouble. The English speaking people
have all disappeared, and I hear nothing in the way of lan-
guage bw-tan interminable lingo of something which has not

People and Places in Paris. 37

much more sense to me than the chattering of geese. We
inquire for a hotel, but the only response we get is, *' Je ne
parle pas Anglais." Finally I begin to ransack my brain
for tfee French I learned at college, and pick up a hand full
of words which prove to be of very great assistance. After
framing some kind of a sentence, I know not what now, I
give it to a cabman, meaning to ask him if he can carry us
to Hotel St. Petersburg, for which our traveling coupons
call. " Oui, oui, monsieur," quoth he. " Combien deman-
dezvous?" " Cinq francs," he replies. We jew him down to
four francs and agree to employ him. We encounter a lit-
tle difficulty at the hotel, too, but that is soon overcome, as
the servant calls in one of the attendants who can speak
English. I find that nearly all the servants, and most of
the employees about the building, can speak English. Here
we encounter a new officer. They call him '* Consciergeriey
He answers somewhat to our clerk in American hotels, and
is supposed to speak from two to twenty-five languages. He
knows everything and everybody, and can tell you any
thing you wish to know. Mark Twain says he can even tell
you "who struck Billie Patterson."

Paris, like London, is a world within itself, the center of
fashion, bustle, beauty, gaiety, folly and vice. There is
more here to tickle the fancy and dazzle the eye than in
London. They have respect to that which pleases rather
than to the substautials of life. Indeed, the larger part of
the city might be called a garden of beauty. Unlike Lon-
don, whose damp, smoky atmosphere converts its buildings
into huge piles of dingy masses, the buildings here are large,
I'ommodious, bright, gay, and constructed with a special eye
to beauty. The streets are broad, straight, long, decorated
thoroughfares, lined with objects arranged with the greatest
taste, and at all times of the day, and at most hours during
the night, they are thronged with the gay, frivolous millions
of Paris, France generally, and the world.

As our time is quite limited, we join one of the parties

38

A Trip Abroad.

gotten up by Messrs. Thomas Cooke & Son, of London, one
of whose principal branch offices is here, and we are carried,
in haste it 'is true, to most of the places of interest within

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three or four days, furnished with an interpreter who gives
us a running account of a good many things of great in-
terest. There are in the party thirty or forty, some from
Great Britain, some from America. We travel in two large

People and Places in Paris.

39

vehicles, holding fifteen or twenty each. Passing the new
French Opera, a grand structure, we make our way along
the Grand Boulevard to the church of the Magdaleine. It
is the time for morning services. Crowds ^re coming and
going, and everything is confusion. For a moment we
enter and are dazzled, amazed at the royal display of paint-

TRIUMPHAL arc 'DE L'ETOILE.

ings, statuary and carvings, besides the furniture of the
church. We go along through the Elysian Fields, pass the
Palace of Industries, the Palace of the Elysee, and come to
the Triumphal Arch of TEtoile. This is a massive pile of
artistic and mechanical beauty. It was begun by Napoleon
I. to celebrate his victories, but left unfinished, at his banish-

40

A Trip Abroad.

ment, until the time of Napoleon III, who finished it, not
so much for the love he bore his uncle, as to perpetuate his
own memory. We next go to the " Invalides," the burial
place of Napoleon Bonaparte. We first visit the armory, in
one part of the building, where we find a great many things
of interest. Here is a mortar taken at Yorktown and con-
veyed here, we suppose, by La Fayette. Here, too, is a
mammoth chain used by the Turks in the Seventeenth Cen-
tury, to prevent the passage of the Danube, with hundreds

TOMB OF NAPOLEON.

of banners tattered and torn and the trophies of many
battles.

The northern wing of this huge building is used as a
hospital for the care of superannuated, afflicted and wounded
French soldiers, numbers of whom we see; hence the name.

We will now go around to the south entrance of the build-
ing, for there is no passing from the armory into the other
parts. Everything is guarded by the ^^militaire,^* and with
a considerable amount of bowing, scraping and chattering
in French, our guide at last obtains permission to enter.

People and Places in Paris. 41

And here, beneath the gilded dome of the Invalides, the
most gaudy, the most costly, the most appropriate mauso-
leum that marks the resting place of, perhaps, any earthl)^
monarch, lie the remains of the most remarkable roan the
world has ever seen. The whole structure, larger than our
capitol building, of beautiful white stone, is itself a beauty.
But the inner court which contains the tomb is superbly
fine. The tomb is directly under the dome, and is in a cir-
cular basin-like place, ten or twelve feet below the level of
the floor. Around the walls of this are elegant specimens
of sculpture and paintings. On a level with the tomb, and
in a circular case, are inscribed in large letters the words^
"Pyramides, Marengo, Austerlitz. Jena, Rivoli, Moscow^
Friedland, Wagram,'^ eight of the most illustrious battles of
this wonderful man. Just above, in the dome, are painted
in bright colors on the walls several of the battle scenes of
his career. To the rear of this is an altar, crowned with a
costly arch, called the Arch of Napoleon, and supported by
four magnificent columns of Alpine marble. On either side
of the court lie the remains of his brothers, Jerome and
Joseph, and Generals Bertrande and Duroc. Among the
last words of Napoleon were, *' I desire that my ashes shall
rest on the banks of the Seine, among the French people
whom I love so well." This last wish is handsomely
gratified.

Paris is partially supplied with water by two vast artesian
wells, eighteen hundred feetdeep, and which furnish two hun-
dred thousand gallons a day. Besides this, the water of the •
Seine is used, to a very great extent, for the two millions of
restless beings who inhabit this "drawing-room" of the world.
But you must bear in mind the fact^that Frenchmen do not
use as much water as Americans. They never think of
drinking water f And if you wish to insult a clerk at a hotel,,
just ask him for a drink of water. " They say" that it is
dangerous to drink the water of France and Italy. We
drink it every time, and my health is better than for years.

42 A Trip Abroad.

This is a cunning way they have of getting foreigners to
■drink their wine ; and I blush to say that there are a good
many Americans here at this hotel, and in our little excur-
sion, who don't need must persuasion. In fact, one young
man from Brooklyn frankly confesses that he has not suffi-
cient moral courage to drink water in Europe.

But it will never do to pass the bath-houses unnoticed. The
banks of the Seine are strewed with them from one end of
the city to the other, and you can take a nice bath for from
ten to fifty cents. "They say," too, that there are places
where " high-fliers^' take wine-baths, in which lovers of the
beverage may sit and sip and swim at pleasure. After the
ablution is finished, the ruby tide is drawn off into the next
room, and No. 2 has his fill at a lower figure. Perhaps No.
3 may find, as he tastes, that the wine has considerable
^'body" to it. Having washed a score of dirty fellows, it is
bottled, ^* on dit," for exportation. They never think of
furnishing soap, either at the hotels or at the bath-houses.
This is extra, and they make you pay extra, too. The read-
ing of Mark Twain's "Innocents Abroad" has somewhat
prepared us for what we shall meet; and yet, we sometimes
find ourselves imposed upon. *

As we glide along the banks of the river, which forms the
letter S in its windings through the city, we come upon
what was once the beautiful hall of the " Council of State,"
now a mass of wreck and ruin, the result of the fiendish
rage of the Commune of 1871. How human beings can be
' possessed of such beastly passions is still a mystery. Why,
there stands the little house in which poor Voltaire died ;
just across the stream are the ruins of the Tuileries, which
shared the same fate as the Council of State. Its massive
walls and beautifully carved columns now stand unroofed,
B picture of destruction and desolation, pitiable to behold.
As we go, we see the National Library, with its million or
more volumes, the Bourbon Palace, Palace of the Legion of
Honor, the Bourse, or Exchange, and the Royal Palace. We

People and Places in Paris. 43

are now iu the Park of the Buttes Chaumont, from one part
of which a beautiful view of the city can be had. And oh,
what a magnificent view it is ! We are surrounded by placid
lakes, sporting fountains, lovely grottoes, dancing cascades,
beautiful green hills and pleasant valleys, abounding in
fragrant flowers of the rarest kind.
Here we stand in the midst of

" PERE LA CHAISE,"

the city of the dead, whose marble shafts and richly carved
tombs mark the last resting-places of millions. Here is one
grave over >^ hich no slab is erected. An iron fence encloses
it, and it is covered with a bed of rich flowers, while ivy
branches clamber over the iron bars. This is the grave of
Marshal Ney, " the bravest of the brave," whose last request
was that no monument of any kind might mark the place
where they laid his ashes.

Now we walk on hallowed ground. We are in front of
the Church St. Germain TAuxerrois, from whose towers
sounded forth the funeral notes of the bells which were
tolled pn that dread morning which ushered in the

MASSACRE OF BT. BARTHOLOMEW,

when the streets of Paris ran red with the blood of martyred
saints. We next visit St. Etienne du Mont, a cathedral which
contains the tomb of St. Genevieve, the patron of Paris. We
peep into the Pantheon, too, which Voltaire converted into
a heathen temple, and in which he placed the images of
" all the gods," but which, after his death, was reconverted
into a Christian (?) church. We visit also the Palace and
the garden of the Luxembourg, the Botanical Gardens,
which contain a huge specimen of the Cedars of Lebanon;
the wine-halls, which exhibit piles of casks, and the Morgue,
which has two dead bodies stretched out to be recognized by

44 A Trip Abroad.

any friend who happens to pass. They have been found
dead, and no one knows them. One seems to have been
drowned, w^hile the other was evidently murdered ! Oh,
the horrible thought of dying from home, with no friend
to pity, nor any one to sympathize with the lone sufferer !
This is a thing of almost daily occurrence in this desperate
country, and it is nothing unusual to find a corpse lying in
some back alley, or upon the water's edge. If no one hap-
pens to come in w^ho recognizes the poor victims, they are
carried off to the dissecting room, after a certain length of
time.

CHAPTER VII.

THE LOUVRE.

This is one vast art gallery, whose walls are decorated with
hundreds, and even thousands,of the richest, rarest specimens
of artistic beauty the world can afford. The vividness of
conception and the brilliancy of execution are wonderful
in the extreme. They are the very best works of the most
distinguished artists of ancient and modern times. But
alas! most of them are battle scenes and the portrayals of
such vices and crimes, as to be unfit for examples of emu-
lation to the rising generation of any but a barbarous and
warlike people. There are, too, some of the most costly
specimens of wood carving to be found. In the chamber
of the ancient kings de Medici, all the walls are of richly
carved oak of beautiful designs, and must have cost hun-
dreds of thousands of francs. Then the gold and precious
stones, in the form of jewels, owned by these kings, repre-
sent a still more enormous pile of " the dross." The ceiling

People and Pj.aces in Paris.

45

of this elegant chamber is of stone which Las some most
exquisite paintings on it, one of whicn represents France,
in the form of a lovely maiden, paying a visit to Egypt, a

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swarthy maiden of less pleasing mien, before whose intelli-
gent visitor the dark clouds of superstition are rolled back,
while the obelisk rises in the back ground.

We are also shown some things brought from Cyprus, to-
gether with the relics of Charlemagne, mosaics, etc. There

46 A Trip Abroad.

is one room here which is nearly a quarter of a mile long.
This and the others are lined with the works of Ricci, Ra-
phael, Panini, Roselli, Rubens, Valazquez, Murilla,Lebrun,
and several other noted artists. Why, here is the very win-
dow from which Charles I. fired upon his subjects, as they
fled for refuge past his chamber.

Now here we are at Notre Dame — the world-renowned
Notre Dame! (See Frontispiece.) It was begun in A. D.
1100, and has been in process of erection ever since. They
scarcely ever finish a building of this kind, but keep work-
men tinkering on some part of it from generation to genera-
tion, taking away faded and ctumbling parts, and replacing
them with something more durable and more beautiful. It
is three hundred feet long, one hundred and forty feet wide,
and one hundred feet high, with two huge towers, and a
magnificent steeple besides. These are all of richly carved
stone work, and there are carvings in stone around the pul-
pit or altar, representing incidents in the life of Christ. On
the outside, just above the door, is a representation, in carved
figures, of the devil, weighing the souls of immortal beings
with a pair of scales. How many must be " weighed in the
balances" and "found wanting I" One of the bells (for
they have many) weighs thirty-two thousand pounds.

Sunday comes. The sun rises in his accustomed splendor.
Scarcely a cloud intervenes to interrupt the brightness of
his effulgent rays. But what a scene greets him ere he has
risen to the meridian. God's holy day is made a day of
special hilarity and feasting here. The shops and stores of
the men of business are mostly kept open, and those which
are not, in most cases, are closed simply to give the em-
ployees an opportunity of spending the day in drinking,
frolicking and carousing. What a world of iniquity this
is! Bands of music are playing in the parks, the wine
saloons and drinking pavilions are rendered more attractive
than on any other day; they have races, match-games of

People and Places in Paris. 47

different kinds, dances, excursions, etc., — every thing that i&
calculated to lead astray the youth of the land.

A BAPTIST CHURCH.

In company with Dr. T. Whitfield and wife, of Charlotte^
N. C, I go around to the little Baptist chapel to attend their
Sunday school. There are some twenty-five persons present
Others soon come in, and by the time the exercises close
there is quite a number presents The exercises are all con^
ducted in French, and of course are not very edifying.
There is, however, an evident earnestness exhibited on the
part of those engaged in the work, which cannot fail of suc-
cess. The singing is good, and I join with them in singings
'* Je voudrais etre un Ange,''^ — I want to be an Angel. After
the regular exercises are over. Dr. Whitfield and a brother
from New Jersey, deliver short addresses, which are trans-
lated by one of the paators into French, for the benefit of
those present. They are very cordial in their greetings, and
the gentleman who interpreted the addresses speaks pretty
good English. The congregation now begins to assemble
for regular church worship, and an earnest, zealous-looking
man takes the pulpit and preaches, what seems to be, a good
sermon. The church numberaone hundred and fifty mem-
bers, all converted Roman Catholics except four or five-
They have five deacons, three pastors and two evangelists*
One of these brethren lives entirely by faith. He has owned
no property for twelve years, but goes out into the streets
and lanes of the city preaching Jesus and depending upon
the Lord for his support, and he always gets it. There is
no other regular Baptist church in this city of two millions
inhabitants I There is a union chapel where Baptists and
Congregationalists worship together. I attend this at night
and hear a pretty good discourse in English. The clergy-
man, whose name I forget, finds out from a brother who at-
tended the Baptist chapel in the forenoon that I am present

4S A Trip Abroad.

flnd calls on me for some remarks. This done, quite a num-
ber of persons present, (Americans and Englishmen) come
up and make my acquaintance, and express a good deal of
pleasure at meeting me. The exercises at this place are
conducted principally for strangers visiting Paris who speak
English, together with the small number of English speak-
ing people who reside here. One of the persons I meet is
an Englishman and has reared a family here, all of whom
speak French.

The carpet manufactory of the Gobelins is also a very in-
teresting place to visit. Here we find numbers of persons
at work, making tapestry, carpets, etc., from the most elabor-
ate figures and designs. We are told that some of them re-
quire twenty or thirty years to complete them, so tedious
and intricate is the work. It is all done by hand, and so
perfect are some of the specimens, that one can scarcely de-
tect the difference, at a little distance, between the figures,
flowers, etc., and real natural flowers in vases and bouquets.
'Twas here that the celebrated tapestries which decorate the
walls of the palaces at Versailles and Fontainbleau were
made, a^ well as many of those at Hampton Court in Eng-
land. These, you know, were formerly used to decorate the
walls of the royal apartments of ancient kings, instead of
having them frescoed, or having large paintings strewn all
over the walls.

ST. CLOUD AND VERSAILLES.

But su[)pose now we leave Paris for a little run out to St.
Cloud and Versailles. From the Triumphal Arch de
TEtoile our way lies through the justly celebrated Bois de
Boulogne, whose spacious walks, elegant drives, bubbling
fountains, sparkling cataracts, dancing brooklets, and
smiling flowers all tend to enhance the beauty of one of the
loveliest parks in tbe world. The driving w^ys are as
straight as an arrow, and as we pass the intersection of two

People and Places in Paris. 49

or more of them, we can see apparently miles in either
direction, along the shaded avenues, as the limbs of the trees
almost meet and kiss each other above our heads. Why
here is the residence of one of the Rothschilds, but it is so
perfectly surrounded by trees, flowers and evergreens, that
we can get only a glimpse of it as we pass. As we are in
such a hurry, we will not call, lest the landlord insist on our
spending the day I

From this point we get a splendid view of the citadel of
Mont Valerien, which was the last place from which the
French were dislodged in the Franco-German war. It is a
powerful fortress and on such a hill as to bo almost impreg-
nable. Now we stand in front of the Palace of St. Cloud,
the favorite residence of Napoleon and his lovely Josephine.
It is now a pile of ruins, another result of the rage of the
Commune in 1871. Here are the huge elm trees, beneath
whose bending limbs and in whose sombre shade the
Emperor and Empress promenaded and sat and talked for
hours together. Here is the same sporting fountain, the
same placid pool, the same flower garden, with some im-
provements, which gladdened the hearts of the two distin-
guished lovers. It makes one feel a little sentimental and
romantic to be here, and a sense of admiration for the
heroic plays in one's breast in spite of himself.

We cannot linger, as full of historic interest as is the
place. Again we take our seats in the vehicles and off we
go. " See there," says our guide ; " there is a shell sent from
the gun of the enemy during the Franco-German war." We
look, and sticking in the walls of a house just over the road,
is a large shell which has been robbed of its deadly contents
and replaced, as a relic of the sufl'erings of that dreadful
struggle, which rendered two nations almost bankrupt. It
was evidently nearly spent when it struck, as it merely
made enough impression to lodge. It was doubtless meant
for the Palace of St. Cloud, and fell short of its mark only a
few yards. As we glide along through the forest, we find
4

50 A Trip Abroad.

the trees all scarred by the bullets and balls of the contend-
ing armies, whih many a little mound is raised over the
sleeping remains of the lost loved ones — lost in this life, and
many of them lost for all eternity 1

What shall I say of Versailles? The Palace alone con-
tains enough of the historic to interest the student for days
and weeks. The chamber of Louis XIV., the furniture of
Josephine, the waiting room of Louis Philippe, the rooms
containing the cam'CO, brought from Herculaneum, the
largest in the world, the malachites presented to Napoleon
L by Alexander the Great, of Russia, the room in which
Victoria and Prince Albert din^d, the huge and splendid
vases, one of which cost forty thousand francs, the elegant
table made by the deaf mutes of Paris and presented to
Josephine, the mosaics, the bed on which the Empress died,
are all fraught with much historic interest. Nor must we
pass over in silence the carriages of State, one of which looks
like gold, wheels and all, is lined with the most costly
material and cost one million, four hundred thousand francs,
or two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. Here, too, is
the one used by Napoleon when he became First Consul,
and the one in which Josephine was carried from the Tuile-
ries after the divorce. And here is a statue of Louis XIV.
on horseback, made of the cannon taken by him in his bat-
tles un the Ehine. But the Palace itself, with its walls of
marble and richly executed paintings, is so lavishly beauti-
ful and so elegantly furnished, that even Voltaire pro-
nounced it " the gulf of expense" One of the rooms is an
enormously long one, and has one of its sides converted into
one vast mirror, so that, not only the excellent paintings,
rich carvings and handsome chandeliers, but also all the ex-
quisite landscape, which is to be seen in front of the Palace,
are duplicated, so as to present a picture charming indeed.

Now we will take a walk down by the fountains, the most
elaborate, they say, in the world, certainly the most exten-
sive that I have ever seen. A large park is full of them.

Veksailles.

51

They do not play to-day. It is only on Sundays and State
occasions that they are run, for it costs two thousand dollars

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each time they are used, simply for the supply of water.
But what is this I see pasted on a large board ? " Richmond
GemT Why it transports me to America in the twinkling

52 A Trip Abroad.

of an eye. How I wish "the children of light" were as
anxious to carry forth to the world the knowledge of Christ
as "the children of darkness" are to publish their articles of
merchandise! Then surely the knowledge of Christ would
soon " cover the earth, as the waters cover the great deep."

CHAPTER VIIL

FONTAINEBLEAU.

As we leave Paris, we will stop and spend a few hours at
Fontainebleau.

This is one of the most ancient, as well as one of the most
interesting, places of public resort in France. It is situated
thirty-fivemilesupthe Seine from Paris,and is surrounded by
a lovely park, containing several hundred acres. As far back
as the times of Louis VII. and Philippe Auguste, this was one
of the favorite resorts of the fashionable and the elite. From
this time down to the days of Napoleon and Louis Philippe,
the crowned heads took up their abode here, and have left
many traces of their affection in the way of improvements.
The chateau, or palace, is full of historic associations, and
some tragical events. 'Twas under this roof that Francis
I. received the Emperor Charles V., on his visit to France
in 1639. Twas here that Christine, Queen of Sweden, had
the Marquis of Monaldeschi assassinated in 1657. Here, in
1685, Louis XIV. signed the Revocation of the Edict of
Nantes. Here died the Dauphin, only son of Louis XV.,
and father of Louis XVI., also Louis XVIII. and Charles
X., after an illness supposed to have been caused by poison.
Here Charles IV., of Spain, was confined by Napoleon for
twenty-four days, and Pope Pius VII. suffered the same fate

FONTAINEBLEAU.

53

for nearly two years. Here, in 1809, was pronounced the
divorce of Josephine, and only five years later the Emperor
bade adieu to the Imperial Guard, after he had signed the

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Abdication. The open court in which this took place has
since been called the Court of Adieus.

The relicts of the kings, queens, princes and emperors,

64

A Trip Abroad.

preserved here, are without number. There is the very
table on which Napoleon signed the Abdication. Here is
the throne upon which he sat on state occasions. Here is
the toilet-chamber and furniture of Marie Antoinette, with
the walls all covered with l*^lemish tapestry. I steal a chance
and take a seat on one of her elegant chairs. (Our guide
speaks nothing but French, and it is with much difficulty
that I understand him.) Here is the furniture of Louis
Cator, and here the private theatre of Napoleon III. And
1 am constrained again to take a seat in the chairs used only
for the Emperor and Empress. As I sit, my friend passes and
crowns me Emperor of France I What an honor I Wonder
how long it will last.

GALERIE DE FRANCOIS I.

I give herewith an illustration, showing the elegance of
one of the chambers in the palace above mentioned, that of
Francis I. It will serve to give some idea of the elaborately
carved ceilings and walls, with the beautiful statuary which
is so abundant in every European palaoe.

From France to I^aly. 65

RIBBON FARMING.

We board the eastern bound train and pass along the
valley of the Seine for hours, through one of the most fertile,
most beautiful farming sections I have ever seen. The
country is slightly undulating, but there are no abrupt
changes. The lovely stream glides slowly on beneath the
pleasant shades of the tall poplars, which grow along its
banks and which are kept trimmed as nicely as a garden
hedge. The land on either side rises gently from the water's
edge backward, forming a vale of exquisite beauty. The
scene is doubly beautified by the mode of farming. Every
inch of the land is under cultivation and is highly improved.
It is just harvest time with them and the goldeu grain is
waving luxuriantly, burdened with a fruitful harvest. But
here is a narrow strip of land, extending from the railroad
down to the water's edge, only about fifteen or twenty, or
perhaps thirty feet wide, which is covered with a crop of
splendid clover in full bloom; the next strip is white with
the blossoms of the Irish potato ; the next has a good crop
of oats ; perhaps next we find a strip of hemp, and again
one of meadow grass, timothy, or some other excellent hay.
Thus the whole landscape is variegated as far as eye can
reach, and forms a scene lovely in the extreme. This is
what is called ribbon farming. There are no fences to ob-
struct the vision, but occasionally a well-kept hedge of tall
slender poplars or green waving willows. The farm houses
are all built near together, forming quite a town in almost
every communitj. Thus they can conveniently attend
church and build up a good school among themselves,
while they can see to the duties of their farms, which radiate
from these little centres, just as well. There are a great
many sheep and some extra fine cattle thronging the beau-
tiful green pastures and hay fields, which are kept out of
the grain by shepherds and herdsmen^ accompanied by one

56 A TBit> Abroad.

or more huge shepherd dogs. They graze along within a
few inches of the other crops, but if one dares bite a stalk
over the line, a dog is after him in an instant* There are
some who are only able to keep one or two sheep or goats.
These graxe along the railroad embankments, (for every
spot of land is green,) attended by a little child and gener*
ally tied about the neck with a string with which they are
guided. As the train passes, the little animal runs to its
keeper and nestles close by its side until the danger is past
I am so forcibly reminded of the words of the Saviour, "I
am the good Shepherd." Oh, that His sheep had as much
confidence in Him and would rely on Him as implicitly in
time of trials and temptations, as do these little animals
upon their keepers.

The night's travel brings us to Macon, where we have to
lie over for an hour and a half. It is just four o'clock A.
M., but is quite light. In fact the sun is nearly up, al»
though it is not twelve o'clock by New York time. A mag*
nificent view of the river Saone presents itself as we move
into and out of the city. A few hours' travel brings us to
Amberieu, where we reach the foot of the Jura Mountains*
Here we change cars and start for Coloz. The mountain
sides are covered with splendid vineyards. Just on the top»
of one of the peaks is an old castle, crowned with a beautiful
statue. Passing Coloz, we come to Lake Bourget, a lovely
sheet of water, which is surrounded by rugged hills and
craggy cliffs and is not a little like Lake George in New
York State. Here is Chambery, but we have only a few
moments to stop. We are now getting pretty deep into the
Graian Alps whose lofty pinnacles entirely surround us.
The river Isere is followed to its very head. Here we wit-
ness a magnificent scene. The mountain tops are enveloped
in black storm clouds, and torrents of rain, forming little
streamlets, which, in the distance, look like threads of silver,
pour down their rugged, rocky sides.

It is harvest time here, and all of the land on these craggy

Mt. Cenis Tunnel. 57

heights which can be cultivated is burdened with a rich
harvest. Th« sun ifl blooming hot in the vale, almost suflFo-
<»ating. Tho harvesting is done principally by the women,
who crawl €ibout in the fields on their knees, with old
fashioned sickks reaping And binding the grain. An occa-
sional m^an is seen moping about, but doing very little. The
men, you know, must be soldiers, and are in the cities and
towns dressed in uniform, smoking cigars and drinking
beer and wine. Every train, every hotel, every village,
every pathwa^y, is thronged with priests I There are three or
four of them in our division of the car ; and at every station
we find about every tenth man to be a priest, the curse of
this fair land I

We now draw nigh to Modame, at the very foot of Mt.
•Cenis. The granite walls and snow capped peaks lift their
hoary heads above the smiling valleys, while a hundred
brooklets dash madly down the rocky gorges from the melt-
ing snow above to swell the surging current of the rushing,
foaming stream below. What quaint old houses these are!
They are covered with slate, an abundance of which is
found in this section. They look to be more than a hun-
dred years old, — some of them two hundred or more. Just
above Modane, the road makes quite a number of curves, re-
minding me somewhat of the Western North Carolina Rail-
road above Henry's ; and pretty soon we look below us and
find the road and town which we left a few moments ago
several hundred feet beneath us. We plunge into a tunnel
and out again ^ a moment later we are in another. The en-
gine puffs and steams and blows, but still all is dark as mid-
night. Light after light is passed and again we lose our-
selves in the darkness* For twenty-seven minutes we go
on in this dreary cavern, passing seven miles under ground.
This ds the famous Mt. €enis Tunnel.

58 A TriI* A»roai>.

CHAPTER IX.

ITALY.

At last we emerge from this gloomy tegion into the glo-
rious light of day, and find ourselves in Italy.

The frozen glaziers, only a few hundred feet above, look
threateningly down into the mellow harvest*fields in the
valley of the river Po, which intrude themselves almost
to the very foot of the beds of snow. The king of day
38 fast sinking beyond the lofty peaks that are robed in
fleecy clouds, which he converts into a mantle of glory.
The soft Italian sky spreads out before us and above us.
Beneath our feet is the streamlet which swells out in the
pls^ns beyond into the great Po. The descent is so rapid
that it is nothing more than a vast succession of cataracts,
bounding, dancing, leaping, plunging over and over, until
it fiuds rest in the quiet valley below. The night is spent
at " Hotel d' Angleterre," in

TURIN.

As we walk around the city the next morning, we find the
banks of the river thronged with washer-women, who are
washing clothes in its waters and spreading them out to
dry on the sand-banks, which are very numerous, because
it is so dry that the stream is much lower than usual. The
sun is scorching hot, but they seem not to mind it at all,
and a good many of them go with nothing on their heads,
except a little handkerchief, and frequently not even this.
The public buildings are visited, and then we take shipping
for another port.

For miles we go through an excellent farming country,
but it is badly parched, owing to the drought. Here is
an old threshing floor, where they use flails for beating out
the grain ! Who would ever think of finding such antique,

Genoa. 59

quaint old customs in modern Europe ? If this is the best
they can do, America is fifty years ahead of them. Here,
as in France, the women have to work in the fields. They
don't think of wearing bonnets or hats — many of them are
bare-headed and bare-foot. Why, look at them I See that
man ploughing with a four-horse plough drawn by two oxen
in the rear and two cows in front I They can do better than
that in the back-woods of America I Umph I what dilapi-
dated houses I And yet the country is thronged with priests,
who lounge around and live on the hard earnings of the
people. Poor, degraded, superstitious, priest-ridden people I
How I pity them in their ignorance I Who will be held
responsible in the last great day?

For the first time in Europe, I see some Indian corn grow-
ing. It is very small, but the crops of small grain are quite
good. Along the road, in the little farm villages, the houses
are tastily painted, and some of them frescoed on the out-
side. They frequently paint an imitation of a window so
perfectly, blinds and all, that it is with very much diflBculty
that one can tell the difference. The snow-covered Alps have
faded away in the distance, and now we begin to approach
the Apennines. We pass Alessandria and Marengo — the
immortal Marengo, rendered so by the illustrious victory of
Napoleon Bonaparte. By night we have reached

GENOA,

where we spend a part of a day. The mountains come so
near the harbor that the city is really located on the moun-
tain side. There are but very few streets on which vehicles^
can go at all, on account of their steepness. These are very
narrow and have no side walks, the whole street is upon a
level, aad is paved with broad, flat stones, on which the
street cars run without any rails. We take a stroll down
one of the alleys, so steep that steps are necessary, where we
see the inside life of Italy. The alley is surely not more

60 A Trip Abroad.

than eight or ten feet wide, except at one point where it
swells out into a considerable opening, which is filled with
washer-women, who are bending over the troughs in which
they have rather a conglomeration of dirt, rags and filthy
water. The urchins of these poor women crawl around,
drag through the dirt and paddle in the water with hands
that look as if they knew not what water and soap meant.
Farther down, we find the way almost literally blocked up
with fruit and vegetable stalls, while over-head, stretched
from window to window across the way, are lines covered
with clothes, bed-clothes, etc., hanging out to dry, or air.
The houses are very high — from five stories up — and the
people are " as thick as hops." The exchange and market,
with parts of the wharf, are alive with loungers and busi-
ness men, mixed in wild confusion.

We come across, among others, quite a handsome church,
walk in, and find it is high mass. A concourse of priests
is marching round and round, doing what they call sing-
ing, I suppose. Of all the singing I ever heard, this is the
greatest ! Meantime, the high priest (or whatever they call
him), officiates at the altar, where there is a little boy to
stand behind him and shake his robe occasionally, in order
to rattle some bells attached to its border. He then reads
awhile, the others keeping silence, and then they break
forth into singing again. It does not take us long to tire
on such fare, and we begin to seek something more inter-
e43ting, when a gentleman walks up and proposes to show
us the church. We accompany him, and, among other
things, find the tomb of John the Baptist, and the chain
with which he was bound in prison by Herod (?) This suf-
fices, and we take our departure.

Here is a huge statue of " Christopo Columbo^' very near
the station, which we failed to see last night, because of the
lateness of the hour. This is conceded to be the birthplace
of Columbus, you know, although there are several other
•cities, some in Italy and some in Spain, which claim tbi9

Pisa. 61

honor, we are told. What changes success works in the
standing of an individual in society and popular favor!
Just let one fail in a great undertaking, and he is hissed at ;
but let him succeed, and all, friends (falsely so called) and
avowed enemies, come flocking to him, wanting to do him
honor and court his favor !

As the cars start off, the first thing they do is to plunge
into a tunnel, and we pass under nearly the whole of Genoa
before we emerge from it. This is merely the beginuing of
a succession of tunnels through which we pass, for by actual
count we find ninety-8evm before we reach Pisa! It seems
that fully one-half of the road, for twenty-five or thirty
miles, is under ground. In fact, people seem to prefer to
build subterranean railroads in some sections over here.
But between these, there are beautiful landscapes which
greet our vision ; on one side, the rugged heights of the
Apennines, in some places covered with vineyards; on the
other, vast forests or orchards of fig, lemon, orange and
almond trees, with an occasional mellow harvest field
spreading out to the very shore of the Mediterranean Sea,
whose historic waters lave the feet of the rocky cliffs which
project themselves into the territory of Old Neptune. For
hours we run along the water's edge; and oh, what a chain
of sacred associations bind us to the distant past, as the
hallowed memory of the shipwreck of Paul and the fleeing
of treacherous Jonah come flitting before our minds. 'Twas
these same waters which bore upon their bosom the ships of
Tarshish, laden with the commerce of nations. The proud
legions of Greece, Rome, Carthage, and even the Imperial
Guard of Napoleon Bonaparte, made their way across this
watery waste, bearing weapons of destruction against their
dreaded foes.

PISA.

We reach Pisa about sunset, and make our way towards
the hotel, when we are hailed by a police or revenue force

62 A Trip Abroad.

which wants to examine our luggage. Pisa is a walled
town and these oflBcers are stationed at the gates to prevent
the importation of taxable articles. The weather is ex-
tremely dry and warm. They have had no rain for weeks.
Almost everything green is parched into a crisp, and the
dust is simply unbearable. The river Arno flows gracefully
through the busiest part of the city, and at night there are
scores and hundreds of persons bathing in its rippling
waterjs. The people are promenading along the embank- *
ments and thronging the streets in countless numbers, while
in front of hotels, wine saloons, beer gardens and restau-
rants, there are to be seen hundreds and thousands loung-
ing around, smoking, drinking and enjoying the balmy air,
which is so refreshing after the heat of the day. The em-
bankments are of stone and are about twenty feet above the
water level. The melting of the snow on the Apennines
once caused a fearful inundation by swelling the Arno to
overflowing. To prevent a recurrence, these high stone em-
bankments were constructed.

Ai night, July 15th, the mosquitoes are so numerous that
nets must be used. At a late hour an awful noise arouses
us from our slumbers, so interrupted by the heat, and pretty
soon I hear my friend's window go up, when a caterwauling,
as if of a dozen cats, greets my ear. " Scat ! scat!" he cries,
but to little effect, for the abominable things pay scarcely
any attention to him. The people of Pisa seem to care
nothing for to them at all. Wish I had a good shot gun.

The morning is spent in visiting the Leaning Tower and
the celebrated Duomo. The former is a huge white marble
structure, one hundred and eighty feet in circumference at
the base and two hundred and eighty-eight steps high
(about two hundred feet.) It was built in 1174 A. D., and
looks as if it would fall of itself. Various theories have
been adduced as to the cause of the leaning. ' Some sup-
pose that it was caused by the heat of the sun on that side
(the South), while others think the foundation on that side

The Leaning Tower of Pisa.

63

gave waj\ Others, still, suppose it was purposely built so.
This latter seems more plausible. The whole is of pure
white marble, beautifully carved and richly ornamented.
From the top a lovely view is had of the city, the windings
of the Arno in its course to the sea, which is seven miles

THE LEANING TOWER OF PISA.

away, and the surrounding country, laden with a rich
harvest. In the Duomo, or cathedral, is seen the very lamp
from the oscillations of which Galileo discovered the use of
the pendulum. It is still suspended from the top of the
ceiling, some seventy-five or eighty feet high, by a wire
which reaches within eight feet of the floor. The whole of
the inside looks like an elegant art gallery, while the out-

64 A Trip Abroad.

side is a mammoth pile of stately columns, the spoils of
ancient Grecian and Roman temples. It was built in 1063
A. D., to commemorate a naval victory over the Saracens.
"Wait awhile. You are in one of the oldest cities of
Europe. It has a life of thirty centuries. Pelasgian Etrus-
cans gave culture to Rome ages ago, and wandering Greeks
from Elis, it is said, came hither with Nestor and founded
this place. Long before Christ it was a Roman colony. For
the first Crusade Pisa equipped one hundred and twenty
ships. Her banners waved victorious over Sardinia, Corsica,
Palermo, and the Balaeric Isles.^'

Now we stand in ** Campo Santo," the resting place for the
honored dead, into which fifty-three ship loads of soil,
brought from Mount Calvary, were put, as holy earth, in
which to bury the worthy'saints. The baptistery is a won-
derful piece of architecture. Its clustered columns and
archss are a medley of Gothic and Corinthian art. The
little boy who accompanies us, raises his voice in plaintive
accents, and in succession produces the four principal
sounds of the musical scale, which echo, reecho and re-
verberate for some seconds, like a full orchestra that for cen-
turies has haunted the double dome. These echoes vanish
as we hark and bear them —

•* Thin and clear,
And thinner^ clearer, farther golng^r
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,

And grow forever and forever V

It is just twelve o'clock, noon, when we take the eai-s. The
heat is so intense that it is almost impossible to remain in
the cars, until they are in motion. Just before leaving, two
young men, apparently brothers, come into the station, one
of them to take leave of the other. As the engine begins
to blow and steam, they very affectionately embrace and
kiss each other ! This I find to be a custom among the gen-
tlemen of most of the countries here* They generally kiss '

RoMK. 65

both cheeks. Glad I don't live here! It would be bad
enough to have to kiss some of the women we see.

There is a beggar at almost every street-corner, two at
every church door, and two do«en at every railroad station.
These haunt tourists entirely out of patience, and soon I
learn to say **No!''' without much reluctance. Why, a man
tiould give away a fortune here in a month!

CHAPTER X.

ROME.

It is more than two hundred miles from Pisa to Rome.
We have not been going very long ere the Apennines sink
'almost below the horri«on, «.nd look like little hills in the
■distance. The country becomes more and more level until
it is quite ^ plain. We still coast along the restless waters
of the Mediterranean, and at ten o'clock at night, July 16th^
reach the ^' Eternal City.^' The pate moon has risen over
the Alban mountains, and casts a silvery light upon the
Tippling bosoto of the " yellow Tiber.'^ The dreams of my
boyhood's happy days are *realiBed. Since my early child-
hood, I have anxiously looked forward to the time when I
might be permitted to listen to tfare burning eloquence of
'Charles Spurgeon and sit beneath tho shadows of the Coli*^
Beum aad stroll amidst the ruins of the Roman Forum I
And here I ^m ! No i-magination can fully picture the sen-
"sations that fill my bosom and flit before my mind like ten
thousand fairy dreams. Hail 1 proud mistress of the world
for centuries past I But how changed I I had pictured a city
-of moss-covered ruing ; but upon arrival, there is to be seen
«n elegant railway station with all the modern improve*

66 A Trip Afi&OAir.

ments of Europe of even America. A line of coachmen eittd
omnibus drivers throng the way and spout forth their
Italian by the mouthful. It soon appears to them that they
are wasting their sweetness on the desert air, for not a word
do we utter to them, but search out, among the many, the
omnibus for our hotel and enter it. Wo are driven for one
or two miles, first through broad and spacious streets, along
whose sides handsome residences present themselves. Surely
we have mistaken Paris for Rome ! No ; we now enter more
narrow streets, which crook and turn hither and thither.
And yet the gas lights blaze on every side, reminding one
that there is life in the old land yet. Moat of the hotels,
too, have the electric wire for calling boots or porter.

What delightful, fresh air comes stealing through the
lattice ({ my window; and such nice, cool water! Rome
abounds in spaikliug fountains of the purest water, brought
directly from the Alban mountains, of which we freely
drink. They have ice, too, but oh, how they charge for it 1
They say that we must sleep with our windows and doors
closely shut, or we shall be liable to catch the Roman fever,
from which there is no recovery. Our windows stand open
all night, notwithstanding such representations of danger.
And we are not troubled by mosquitoes, either. We have
to be out very early, for the heat, in the middle of the day,
is so intense that it is unbearable, even to the inhabitants,
who say that it is the warmest Reason they have had for
twenty years! About twelve o'clock we make our way back
to the hotel, and have to lie ova* until three. Think it best
to run no risk.

We first visit Constantine's Bath, one of the interesting
ruins of the great city. There are numbers of bath-houses
to be seen. The Romans surely believed in this amusement,
as there are some of them in which more than a thousand
persons could bathe at a time. Here we stand at Trajan
Forum ; a heap of magnificent ruins. Column after column
of splendid Corinthian art lifts its broken and shattered

• Sights in Rome. 67

form skyward, or lies prostrate on the earth, once covered
by the debris, but recently exhumed. This master-piece of
workmanship was destroyed by the Goths and Vandals cen-
turies ago. Near this point stands the column of Trajan, a
massive shaft of marble in twenty-nine blocks, the whole
spirally carved most beautifully, and has two thousand and
five hundred small figures engraved upon it. It was form-
erly crowned with a statue of Trajan, but in the triumph of
Christianity (?) this has been replaced by a statue of St.
Peter I It is said to be the oldest and best column in Rome.
Some of the columns which surrounded the Forum were
brought from Egypt. There were four rows of them,
twenty in each row, and they were forty-six feet high I
Here, too, are the old Forum walls, a crumbling mass of
ruin.

In the distance is to be seen the Capitoline Hill, but we
shall defer a visit there until another time. Just here are
two churches dedicated to Mary. They were formerly
known as the Temple of > Trajan. We next take a passing
glance at the Forum of Augustus. This was built without
cement or mortar, the stones fastened together with brass
pins, five to each stone. Only three of the columns of this
great ruin are preserved. The walls are buried in the de-
bris fully twenty feet ; they were originally eighty-five feet
high. Here are some of the arches made when the struc-
ture was first erected. Just there stands the Temple of
Mars, which was built twenty-seven years B. C, and which
is, consequently, more than two thousand years oldt It is
now used for a nunnery. Just think of using a house at the
present day which is twenty times as old as our great
American Republic 1 But they don't deign to notice any-
thing here in the way of a ruin, unless it is more than five
hundred years old !

We are now in front of the

68 A Trip Abroad.

COLISEUM,

the grandest ruin in the world I I can imagine how Napo'
leon felt at the foot of the Pyramids, for nearly twenty cen-
turies look down upon me I Situated between the Esquiline,
Palatine and Capitoline hills, \ihere once, with a circumfer-
ence of eighteen hundred and eighty feet, was to be seen
the " pond of Nero," this towering monument of Vespas-
ian, whose foundation is forty feet below the level of the
street, lifts its proud head one hundred and sixty-seven feet
heavenward. It is all of Sabine marble, grand and im-
posing beyond conception. It is elliptical in form, and so
arranged that every spectator might see the performance of
ihe gladiators ; is six hundred and seventy feet long, and
five hundred and fifty broad ; begun in A. D. 72, and fin-
ished A. D. 81, by Vespasian, father of Titus. Titus sent
twelve thousand Jewish slaves from Jerusalem, who did
most of the work, and even then the interior decorations
cost fifty millions francs, (about ten millions dollars), our
guide says. The outside presents four tiers of arches, sup-
ported by columns, one above another. The first, or lowest,
is of Doric art, the second Ionic, the third Corinthian,
while the fourth is composed merely of plain pillars. The
stones are fastened together with brass pins in the same
manner as the Forum of Augustus, already referred to, and
many of them were very much defaced by the Barbarians,
who, in after, years, tried to secure the pins for the sake of
the metal, by picking holes in the walls. The architect was
a Jew and a Christian, whose name was Pangrazius. Titus,
however, was not aware of this. This fact was discovered
a few months ago from a marble slab found here in the
•excavations. The interior was destroyed by the family
of the Tangipani in the Thirteenth Century. There are
now twenty-five feet of debris filling the place where the
.gladiators gave entertainments. A few feet above this.

Thb Coliseum. 69

and ranging backward one above another, there are five
tiers of seats, somewhat like the galleries in modern theatres.
These tiers were supported by eighty arches each. The
lowest seats, those of the first tier, next the gladiators and
beasts, were occupied by the plebeians, or lower classes ; the
second, by the members of the royal family, on one side, and
the consuls and senators on the other ; the third, by the
merchants ; the fourth, by the ladies, and the fifth by the
sailors, eighteen hundred of whom were generally present
on such occasions. The roof was covered with canvas, only
when the performances were going on, and these sailors
were put at the top, so as to manipulate the ropes which
spread the awning, for there was no support for it. One
hundred thousand people could be accommodated in this
vast amphitheatre. To satiate the fiendish thirst of the
Roman persecutors, and to please the whims of a maddened
populace, on one occasion, at its dedication, when there were
one hundred days spent in feasting, there were one thousand
gladiators and three thousand beasts slain in this temple of
iniquity.

Let us take a little ramble among these sacred ruins, hal-
lowed by the blood of twelve thousand Christian martyrs,
who here^ yielded up their lives, bearing testimony for
Christ ! Here are the dens in which the wild beasts were
confined. Here is the gate through which the poor victims
were led to the slaughter, and here the entrance to the sub-
terranean corridor, through which the bodies of the slain
were conveyed by slaves to the Tiber, there to become food
for fish. Here is the aqueduct through which the blood
was carried, as it was washed from the floor of the amphi-
theatre. How my heart throbs at the thought of such
tragedies. The reach and the significance of the history of
this grand ruin hold us as with a spell.

** The Niobe of nations ! there she stands,

Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe ;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago.

70 A Trip Abroad.

The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood and Fire

Have dwelt upon the seven-hilled city's pride.
She saw her glories, star by star, expire.

And up the steeps, barbarian monarchs ride,
"Where the car climbed the Capitol.

Alas I the lofty city I and alas I
The trebly hundred triumphs ! and the day

When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass
The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away !

Alas! for Tully's voice and Virgil's lay,
And Livy's pictured page!"

" We looked with eagerness, but our thoughts were too
deep for connected speech. This little space within the Es-
quiline, the Palatine and Capitoline is the scene of Roman
history from Romulus to Constantine. Here are the pre-
cincts of that temple whose law has shaped the destinies of
nations. It is peopled, to our imagination, even now, with
spiritual existences that yet rule us in the realm of thought,
with a more potent power than when they dwelt in the
flesh."

"The monarch of all European ruins" is now partially
gone. Enough stone has been taken away to build five
huge palaces, and yet, for all this, not more than one-fifth
is missing. This will give some idea of the size of this
enormous structure, whose walls were more than fifty feet
thick at the base.

Just there we see the Triumphant Arch of Constantine
the Great, erected after his conversion to Christianity, in
the Third Century, from the ruins of Trajan Forum. Here
is Meta Sudans fountain, the wonder and beauty of that age,
placed here by Domitian, brother of Titus. Passing farther
on, we see the ruins of the Bath of Elagabalus, the Temple
of Venus and Rome, built by Hadrian, the Basilica of Con-
stantine, which was once so elegant, and come upon the art
gallery of St. Luca. This is rather a small affair, although
it has some of the richest gems of Raphael, Titian, Reni
and others. .

We now stand facing the Pantheon, built by Agrippa
nephew of Augustus, 27 years B. C. In front are sixteen

Sights in Rome. 71

tremendous Corinthian columns, (said to be the largest in
Rome), forty-six feet high, all in one^ piece, and weighing
sixty tons each. This was the temple in which the Romans
worshiped all the gods. Most of it was destroyed in the
middle ages, but has since been restored. The top of the
dome is open, (has never been closed), an aperture twenty-
four feet in diameter. The floor is all marble, and there is
no danger of injury from rain or sunshine. It is one hun-
dred and fifty-four feet high, and is just the size of the dome
of St. Peter's, though on a less elevated site. The places
which the statues of the gods used to occupy are now filled
by those of the Saints, which were put here after its conver-
sion into a Christian church, by Bonifacius IV. Where
stood the statue of Jupiter Tonans, made of gold and silver,
there isVnow an altar dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the god-
dess of the Romanists. Here we find in the walls the
tombs of Raphael, of Hannibal Caraccius, his bosom friend,
and Victor Emmanuel. Two Popes have been elected here,
Stephanas II. and Gelasius II. The walls are covered with
fine paintings, among the most noted of which is the Mar-
tyrdom of Stephen, by Potsi.

CHAPTER XL

GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS,

Next comes the Parliament building in front of which
stands an obelisk, brought from Egypt by Augustus, and
similar to those in Paris, London and New York. But what
means this elegant column, covered with two thousand
carved figures? It stands in the Amelian Forum, and was
once crowned with a statue of Amelius. St. ^^aul now takes
his place. How is this, Paul ? Why is it that you stand here

72

A T^ir Abroad.

o
o

O

Sights in Rome:. 7$

thus elevated one hundred and thirty feet above the level ol
this imperial city, whose governors and kings trembled be-
neath the strokes of your eloquence? Is this your glory
now, Paul? Methinks I can hear him, as his burning words
come rolling down through the corridors of time, echoing
from the plains of Galatia, saying: " God forbid that I should
glory, save in the crpss of our Lord Jesus Christ I" Is there
grief in heaven? Then I must think Paul feels mortified at
seeing himself elevated above the Saviour himself, by these
idolaters.

THE ROYAL PALACE.

What colossals of Castor and Pollux just here in front of
the Royal Palace f They are the work of Praxitiles and
Phidias, in the third century. Suppose W6 take a glance
into the apartments of king Humbert. What a royal dis-
play of tapestry, statuary, paintings, etc.! Why there is
Julius Csesar dictating letters in four languages at the same
time; there the Expulsion of Adam and Eve; here the
Draught of Fishes, and there the Sacrifice of Abraham. Ah,
the brilliancy of this reception room is difficult to surpass,
and as we pass into the Queen^s apartments, we are dazzled,
amazed, confounded ! Such chandeliers ; such mirrors, cover-
ing nearly all of each wall ; such superbly fine vases, worth
thousands of dollars! Did I say worth thousands? No, I
take it back, and say they cost that much. The palace
crowns the top of the Quirinal hill. We have not time to
call upon Humbert, and besides the heat is getting to be so
intense that it is nearly time to look out for the hotel. And
as we sit here let's ponder over some of the things of general
interest learned to-day.

They say that the city of Rome, in the days of Au-
gustus, had a population of four millions, four hundred
and sixty-three thousand, more than London has to-day!
Time and the tide of emigration have swept away more
than nine-tenths of them, and there are now only three

74 A TaiP Abroad.

hundred thousand. Of these, thirty thousand are priests,
monks, bishops and friars J In other words, one preacher to
every ten men I In the public places you can scarcely stir
for them, loitering about, with nothing special to do. For
all this number of preachers, when Sunday comes, the shops
are thrown open as on other days; the priests go in and out,
eating, drinking, and making merry ^pd seem to regard the
sanctity of the day no more than the miserable plebs or the
ragged beggars which throng our way everywhere. These
are not so numerous now as in the cooler season, when
there are more visitors, for the heat is so oppressive in the
summer that but comparatively few persons come here, and
all who reside here and can afford it l^ve for the moun-
tains, for Switzerland, or some milder climate. Of course
the beggars emigrate, too. But I cannot refrain from think-
ing of this sad commentary on this professedly Christiaa
religion. A preacher to every ten men, and yet Rome and
all Italy to-day is in a worse condition^ if possible, than
China! Poor, deluded wretches] When will they be freed
from this curse? Not until Christendom is wide awake on
the subject of missions. When will this be? Not until we
have more religion in our own hearts and more anxiety for
the salvation of souls. May God soon give us both of these I
We will now go to visit one of the ancient churches of
Rome. They call it the church of St. Mary the Great, be-
cause it was the first ever dedicated to Mary. Isn't it strange
'that people should dedicate churches to human beings, or
even to saints? Most of those here are dedicated to the
Virgin. This was built from the ruins of the Temple of
Juno. In the crypt they keep the cradle of the manger,
brought from Bethlehem centuries ago (? ?) There is a mag-
nificent arch over the doorway to the crypt w^here the
Roman Tribunes used to sit during services. Just over
there is a very large painting representing Christ crowning
Mary. Will some one please tell me when this wonderful
event took place? It certainly must have occurred, for I

The Roman Forum. 75

find at least a half dozen or a dozen of these paintings at
diflferent places in Italy. My Bible tells me nothing of it,
and I am very anxious to find out when such a thing was
done.

This is near the new part of Rome which looks as modern
as Paris. Elegant residences loom up on every hand, and
the churches and public buildings are very handsome.
While we are in this neighborhood, we will visit the church
of "St. Mary of the Angels," which was transformed into a
church out of a part of Diocletian's bath, by Michael Angelo,
in the Fifteenth century. One of the original columns is
still standing; it is of one solid piece of red granite and is
fifty-five feet high. One of the paintings amuses me very
much, and I jL-all the attention of my traveling companion,
who is a Methodist preacher, to it. It is called "John Bap-
tizing in Jordan," but represents him as pouring the water
on the people from a shell, and yet they all stand in the
water.

THE FORUM ROMANUM

is the most interesting place in Rome except the Coliseum.
Here all other forums centre. It was the market, court and
tribunal of the Romans for centuries. Used very much
like the place described by Paul, where there was always a
crowd eager to hear or tell something new, as well as to
vend their articles of merchandise. Surrounded by beauti-
ful white marble arches, and richly carved colonnades, it
was a lovely place. But the special interest connected with
it consists in something else. Why just here Julius Caesar
stood, and by his words swayed the minds of those gray-
headed Senators who were the legal fathers of nations.
There is the rostrum on which Cicero stood and poured
forth his eloquence, while listening thousands hung en-
chanted on his lips. Perhaps Paul, too, was here, during
bis sojourn at Rome, Only a few steps away is to be seen

76 A Trip Abroad.

tke Triumphal Arch of Septimius Severus. There is the
Tarpeian Roek on the brow of the hill, from which the
worst criminals were thrown; and there the identical spot
where the geese gave the alarm the night the Gauls were ap-
proaching the city. Here is the Sacra Via over whose pave-
ments the chariot wheels of many a victor have borne the
trophies of bloody Mars and the spoils of vanquished foes,
since the days of Romulus. There are eight columns from
the Temple of Saturn, built 391 years B. C. Near by are
the Temples of Vespasian, Castor and Pollux, Julius, the
floor of Concord, the Portico of Deii Consentes, where the
lawyers sat for writing purposes, and the walls of the old
Capitol built 370 B. C.

The Rostrum is within one foot of where the body of
Julius Caesar was burned. His ashes were buried a little
lower down, near the centre of the Forum. On one side are
the ruins of the Basilica Julia, dedicated to Caesar and built
as a protection for the merchants against the rain and heat
of the sun ; for the Forum proper was not covered. A little
to one side stands the temple in which Cicero revealed to
the senators the conspiracy of Cataline. Here lies a^brokea
shaft which has on it the image of a pig, a lamb and a bull.
They are symbolic of the sacrifices offered, the pig to
Bacchus, the lamb to Mars and the bull to Jupiter. To the
east is the Arch of Titus, while the Palatine hill, once cov-
ered with the palace of the Csesars, rises in grandeur to the
south.

But these ghastly memories are getting monotonous. We
will ride along by the Piazza del Popolo, the finest modem
square in Rome, " they say,^^ and take a view from the

PINCIAN HILL.

The sun is now fast sinking in the west, casting a mantle
of golden light over the Alban Mountains, while the soft
Italian sky spreads out above and forms a lovely canopy.

PiNciAN Hill. 77

soon to be bedecked with the stars of heaven. We " climb
the terraces of the Pincian Hill by zigzag paths, shaded by
the cypress and the pine. Here gather the wealthy and the
titled, soldiers and ecclesiastics, foreign visitors, and groups
of merry children, who, in dress and feature, present as
great a contrast to those we saw an hour ago, as do the deni-
zens of the Seven Dials and those of Hyde Park, in Lon-
don. But the gay turnouts and the crowds on foot do not
constitute the greater attraction of the Pincian— the level
lawns and gushing fountains, the busts and pedestals which
adorn the smooth avenues. Rather it is the historic pano-^
rama which is spread out before you as you sit on the broad
parapet; more interesting in many respects than any other
on which the sun shines. How many in the days of Cfiesar
used to sup here, guests of Lucullus, in his beautiful Pin-
cian villa. Plutarch says that these sumptuous gardens,
baths, statues, and other works of art, furnished by this
wealthy general, surpassed in luxury and magnificence
even those of kings. Here the fifth wife of Claudius, the
infamous Messalina, reveled with her paramours, till the
order c|ime from the Emperor that she must die. The hot
blood of the wanton smoked on the pavement, and stained
with a deeper hue the variegated marbles of Lucullus. At
one end of the Pincian are the Borchese Gardens, and at
the other those of the Villa Medici. The latter are beauti-
fied by borders of box, arches of ilex, and seats of mossy
stone, sculptured fountains, and flower-beds. The former
are three miles in circuit, and enriched with the remains of
early art, vases, sepulchral monuments, shattered pillars
and broken arches. The blue hills enclose the wide Cam-
pagna, through which the winding Tiber flows to the sea,
seen in a clear sky far away beyond Ostia, and once the
home of four millions of people. St. Peter's forms the cen-
tral object, the world's cathedral, the grandest ever built by
man, painted against God's loveliest sky. To the right is the
Vatican, and in front is the Castle of St. Angelo, once a

7S A TRiP AfiROAD.

lofty, graceful pile of Parian marble, with gilded dothe, a
tnagnificent, imperial mausoleum, but now a dingy prison*
Beatrice Cenci is said to have been incarcerated there. To
the left of St* Peter^s is the steep coast of Janiculum, where
once the Temple of JanUs opened its gates at the sound of
war, but closed them with returning peace* Further to the
left is the Forum, the Tarpeian Rock, and the site of the
Catnpus Martins, now built over. Hard by was the Temple
of Apollo, erected B. C. 430, near Which foreign ambassa-'
dors were received before their entrance into Rome, and
victorious generals paused to hear the decree of the Senate^
which gave them a triumphal welcome. Here three thou-
sand followers of Marius 'were murdered by Scylla after he
had promised them their lives, their dying cries being no-
ticed by the Senate m session at the Temple of Bellona*
But the mass of buildings and the thronging memories of
this broadest page of history bewilder." ,

As we go down the street Sunday afternoon, we meet the
strangest procession I have ever seen. It is headed by some*
thing less that a dozen priests, who seem to have charge of
it. It is composed of quite a number of persons (I suppose ;
can't tell except from the size and upright attitude), who
are shrouded in a white garment, which covers the whole
body from head to foot, touching the ground all around,
and being thrown over the head something like a sheet.
No part of the body is^to be seen, (not even the hands, for
the arms are under this sheet-like robe, nor the feet)^ except
the eyes, for which little round holes are cut, about an inch
in diameter. If I were in America, I should " skedaddle,"
thinking I was about to be kukluxed. But as I am in the
land of wonders, and prepared to see almost anything, take
it for granted that this is simply one of the sights I Don't
know now what it means ; forgot to ask the guide about it
Monday. Suppose it must be a school of nuns; but then
they never let them see anybody. Can't think of any other
people who would allow themselves to be thus bundled and
^ied up.

Rt. pETfift^S.

79

CHAPTER XII.

ST. PEtER's.

Passing over the bridge which spans the Tiber opposite
St. Angelo'sCastle, or more recently called Hadrian's Tomb<
we drive up a little narrow^ busy stieet to the broad square
in front of St. Peter's, the wonder of the world. There is a
little disappointment at first sight*, for there is such an area

ST. PETER'S.

ST. ANGELO'S CASTLE.

of ground covered (six acres or more) by this grand display
of architectural j-uhliinity, that its towering domes, nine in
number, although one of iheni, rises to the height of s\iC
hundred and nine feet, look rather tame. Two gushing
fountains play in front, almost surrounded by the colon-
nades which extend from either side of the building, nearly
forming a circle, while the obelisk brought from Egypt by
Caligula occupies the centre. On entering, one gets a much
better conception of the fastness of the structure, " which
employed in its erection the time and treasures of forty^

so A Tri? Abroad.

•
three popes, or three hundred years, and sixty millions of
dollars; which is kept in repair at an annual expense of
thirty thousand; and which, in its magnificent appointments
and gathered treasures, mocks comparison with any build*'
ing reared by man.^' The mingled throng is passing in and
out at all hours "from early morn till dewy eve." It is the
striking proportions and beautiful symmetry which call
forth more admiration than anything else. And yet the
whole might well be called an enormous art gallery. The
thought that such a building existed in the mind of Michael
Angelo before the first stone was laid, gives one a clearer in*
sight into the brilliancy of the genius and intellect of that
wopderful man, who was alike an architect, an artist and a
sculptor, of the highest type.

As might be expected, there is a score of beggars walking
around, crossing themselves with the holy water and keep*
ing up an interminable muttering with their earnest plead*
ings. Besides these, there are numbers who come in to
their morning devotions, bow and scrape about before
images of the Virgin and crucifixes, and finally kneel dowa
in some conspicuous place, with their eyes fixed on a cross>
to count their beads and "say their prayers.*' Then there
are not less than fifty confessionals placed around on all
sides against the walls, where all from everj' nation under
heaven may make their confessions to waiting priesst^
Just above these are the words, " English,** " Francais," etc.,
designating the places where the representatives from dif*
ferent nations may find priests who speak their respective
languages. All around the arches and domes are inscrip-
tions in Latin, most of them referring to some incident in
the life of Peter.

One thing I fail to see at the time, but my attention is
afterwards called to it. Blazing out in bold gilt letters, one
may read, " Indulqences for Sale." Oh, my soul I can it
be that these pretended ministera of truth are advertising a
lie^ and the privilege of committing as much QiUf of any kind.

St. Petbr's. 81

as one wishes, provided he will pay the priests enough
money?

The ceilings are richly frescoed or elaborately carved, and
these, with the marble columns which support the sym-
metrical arc^^es, form a magnificent picture. And besides,
there are statues of all the disciples and many of the saints
and popes placed on pedestals against the walls. Here sits
St. Peter on a chair, a bronze statue, elevated so as to raise
him three or four feet from the floor. Here comes a hag-
gard looking old woman who goes affectionately up to the
statue, puts her right hand loviugly on the right foot, stoops
and kisses some part of it Pretty soon a priest, from the
mass which has just adjourned, comes along, brushes his
hand over it and takes a kiss. We go near to see what there
is to be kissed so lovingly and so frequently, and find that it
is Peter's " big toe'' I It has been kissed so many times that it
is actually worn nearly away 1 1 Just think of these poor su-
perstitious, deluded idolaters wearing out the brass toe of an
image by continued osculations I But the strangest part of it
all is that this same statue used to be called Jupiter,
during the days of heathen Rome. Just at the central
door upon entering, is a slab of porphyry which marks the
spot where the emperors used to be crowned. Immedi-
ately under the centre dome is a gorgeous bronze canopy
which covers the altar, near which there are ninety six
lamps kept constantly burning, A door and staircase directly
under this lead to the crypt where the tomb of St. Peter is
to be seen (?) Here is his ** Episcopal ('hair," too. Please
tell me what that means. I find no body here who can ex-
plain it Didn't know Peter ever had a chair I If he did,
where did they get the Episcopal part of it ? Here they have
his portrait in mosaic. Wonder where they got his like-
ness ? But there is one thing of interest here and that is the
first piece of sculpture of Michael Angelo, representing the
Virgin with the infant Messiah in her arms. But as much
as one may admire the beauty and grand proportions of
6

82 A Trip Abroad.

this "cathedral of the world," he cannot forget that vast
sums required to complete it " were gained by the sale of
indulgences, and that the disgusting abuses under Tetzel
led Luther to nail up his theses in 1517, and so initiate the
Reformation."

St. Peter's stands on the very spot where the impetuous
Apostle was crucified, as tradition informs us, with his head
downward. To the right is the Vatican, beneath whose
shadows some of the most heinous crimes recorded in the
annals of humanity were committed. In connection with
this is the Sistine Chapel, which contains Michael Angelo's
most celebrated painting, " The Last Judgment." It covers
one end of the chapel and vividly portrays the horrors of
that great day, for which all other days were made. We are
told that Michael was angry with one of the pontiffs and put
him among the doomed spirits, in bis picture. His priestly
honor went to the Pope about the matter, but his infallible
majesty only informed the poor unfortunate that if Angelo
had put him in torment, there was no chance for his escape.
He could pray him out of purgatory, but not out of Hades.
There is now a Baptist chapel, Bro. Taylor tells us, almost
tinder the shadow of the Vatican, and the pleasing thought
comes flitting across my mind, that the glory of heathen
Borne must soon pass away.

"Weep, Pope — weep burning tears over the tomb thou
hast dug for thyself; weep, for Italy will yet be a great and
glorious fact, while the popedom becomes a polluted name ;
weep, for while Italy rises more beauteous from the stake to
which thou condemnest her, the popedom will sink into
putrefaction and decay, amidst the joyous shout of emanci-
pated nations !"

. We do not visit the Catacombs, because our guide thinks
it inadvisable, owing to the heat and the liability of con-
tracting some fell disease. But we do see the Capuchin
Monks' burying ground. The Monks themselves are a
grand curiosity. They wear long, coarse, woolen, copperas^

MoNK^s Burying Groujjd. 83

col-ored gowns, with a girdle about the waist, to which are
hung numerous strings of beads, crosses, etc., which reach
almost to the ground, as they walk. They are extremely
poor, giving all of their property to the church and living
simply on what is given them and what they beg. We are
conducted into a' small dark chamber which is the ante-room
to the graveyard, where we find several Monks in waiting.
We then go through an old, narrow door, down a flight of
steps, into a quaint-looking room on a level with the ground.
There is no floor save the earth. Around the walls are
wasting forms of embalmed bodies (mummies) in different
stages of decomposition. Some look fresh, as if dead only a
few months, while others have almost entirely fallen to
pieces. When they get into this state, the bones are taken
from the dry skin, (which forms the dust of the floor,) and
are arranged as ornaments around the rooms. Just here is a
door-way of skull-bones, there a clock made of finger-bones,
over there an arch made of the bones taken from the limbs
•only, here a fanciful array of ribs, etc., etc. There are the
bones of six thousand bodies in these three or four little
rooms, ihey say ; why, even the roofs are dressed off with
them I None but Monks, however, are buried here ; in
fact, I think there are no femalo members of their order.

We will now take a little excursion over to the church of
"St. Peter in Vinculis,^' or St. Peter in chains, where the
Justly celebrated piece of sculpture, Michael Angelo's
" Moses,^' is to be seen. It represents the patriarch on his
descent from the mountain, with the tables of the Law in
his hands, just as the sad news of the idolatry of the people
greets his ear. Such an expression of disappointment and
disapprobation ofte rarely sees^ depicted on the features of a
real, living individual. But when we think of its being
done on stone, it really seems miraculous and incredible in
the extreme. We have now seen the master pieces of
Michael Angelo's productions; in the department of paint*
ifigs, his ** Last Judgment/' which has callod forth the ad^

84 ' A Tbip Abkoad.

miration of enchanted thousands ; in the way of sculpture/
his " Moses/' which has merited the praise of nations, and
rivaled, if not surpassed, the grandest specimens of ancient
Greece ; in the way of architecture, St. Peter's, the wonder
of the world I

A short drive takes us out across the Appian Way, which
is two thousand and three hundred years old, to the
ruins of the Bath of Caracalla, which is one thousand feet
long by eight hundred and seventy wide, and in which six-
teen hundred persons could bathe at one time. It was be-
gun in the Second Century, and the original floor was all of
mosaic.

The Appian Way, just referred to, is the road over which
the Apostle Paul came into Rome, after being met at the
Three Taverns by that crowd of earnest Christians^ who so
much encouraged the heart of this " prisoner of Jesus
Christ," as he came, under guard, to appeal to Csesar for
his life.

The Bath of Titus also occupies a considerable space, cov-
ering one-fourth of the Esquiline Hill. It stands on the
site of the Golden House of Nero, which was destroyed by
Titus in order to build his bath, and to efface the memory
of Nero. Macenas, friend of Augustus, first built a palace
here, which Nero had destroyed in the erection of his Golden
House. Most of this is now under ground, in fact the
whole is a crumbling mass of ruins, and yet some of the
frescoes in the arches and corridors are wonderfully pre-
served. These are seen in the places where the excavations
have been made and were copies by Raphael in his paint-
ing of the walls of the Vatican. There are supposed to be
two hundred rooms yet to be excavated. The floor is two
hundred years old, and the frescoes, of which I have just
spoken, have been here nineteen hundred years I

Here is the house of Rienzi, the last Roman Tribune ; and
.bei^e, as we pass along, is the Theatre of Marcellus, the
.largest in Rome, having a seating capacity of twenty-five

Sights in Rome. 85

thousand, begun by Julius Caesar 54 years B. C. and fin-
ished by Augustus 28 years B. C. The lower part, or first
story above ground, is now a blacksmith-shop. The second
story has been filled in with earth, stone, etc., so as to se-
curely support the third, in which a family of princes live,
called the Orceni family. Two stories are covered with
debris and are now under ground, extending twenty-five
feet below the street level. It was ruined in the Middle
Ages by the family which now owns it. Here is the Portico
of Octavia, which was once a vast corridor connecting the
Theatre of Macenas with the Bath of Agrippa, three quarters
of a mile away, and built twenty-three hundred years ago!
We now pass through the Jewish Quarter, where there are
nine thousand of this wonderful people, living as totally
separate from the other inhabitants, as if they were in a
different country. Only a street separates them from the
other part of the city, and yet their individuality is as well
preserved as in the days of Solomon. Of course they speak
Italian. In the times of the early emperors, they were con-
fined to a very narrow quarter, and, consequently, they had
to build very high houses to accommodate themselves with
room, for they increased very rapidly. This restriction has
since been removed, and they occupy more space.

I should like to take you tlirough the Campo di Fiori, oi
the vegetable market, which is out in an open court, where
they have all the varieties of Italian vegetables and most of
the fruits for sale. I purchase a dozen splendid figs for five
centessimif about one cent of our money. The Piazza Navona,
or Circus Agonale, presents also a good many features of
interest. But we will run around to the Vatican Museum
for a short while, and then take leave of the " Eternal City."
Amid the thousands of specimens of sculpture, preserved
from the earliest ages to the present time, are three whkh
deserve special notice. These are the celebrated " Apollo
Belvidere," discovered in 1503, amid the ruins of Antium,

86 A Trip Abeoad.

and purchased by Pope Julius II., and is supposed to be the
work of Calamis, a Greek sculptor of the Fifth century B.
C; " Laocoon'^ and his two sons, who were crushed to death
by serpents, representing the three in their death agonies,
discovered in 1506 in the Bath of Titus, and sculptured, at
his command, in the Fifth century B. C. by Agesander,
Polydorus and Athenodorus ; and " Mercury," which was
brought from the same place. These, with the *' Venus de
Medici" in the UflBzi Gallery at Florence, are considered the
finest pieces of statuary of ancient times.

CHAPTER XIII.

OFF FOR NAPLES.

It takes about seven hours to run from Rome to Naples, a
distance of one hundred and sixty-two miles. The weather
is still hot and dry. For some time we go nearly parallel
with the old aqueduct, in sight of the Alban Mountains,
passing innumerable ruins in the form of hovels, mansions,
palaces, villages and towns. We cross the Appian Way,
and go in sight of old Capua, whose history flashes upon
my memory, as I think of the times at college, when I
*^ stuck" on this very part of Roman history. Between nine
and ten o^clock at night, we see in the distance a flickering
light, considerably above the level of the earth. . What can
it be? Is it Vesuvius, I suggest to my friend ? Yes; it is
the veritable Vesuvius ! In the distance the light looks not
much larger than a torch. But every few seconds it flares
up into quite a flame, and as suddenly .subsides. For sev-
eral miles we pass along in sight of it, until we have nearly
described a semi-circle around its base, and at about eleven

Naples. 87

o'clock the train conies to a halt, and we bear ring out from
the guard or brakesman, "Napoli!" and we find ourselves at

NAPLES.

We take an omnibus for '* Hotel Grand Nobile," which is
several miles from the railroad station, and quite high on
the range of hills, or mountains, which environ this city of
half a million of inhabitants. Our way lies just along the
edge of the bay, whose placid waters, lit up by the silvery
light of the moon, almost full, are ploughed by a hundred
white-sailed vessels. Numbers more are at anchor near the
wharves, and the sailors are stretched along by the iron
fence which encloses them, fast asleep. On the opposite
side of the street, a strange sight greets our eyes. It is now
near midnight, and the stillness is interrupted only by the
rumbling of the wheels of the vehicles which transport the
travelers from the cars to the hotels, an occasional groan
and the continuous snoring of the sleeping multitude, lying
pell-mell on the side walks — men, women and children in
a mixed up medley, some heads in one direction and some
in another — very much like the scene witnessed by our
^wine-raisers on a summer night. The heat is so unbeara-
ble that they cannot stay in doors, and so they camp out and
occupy the side walks as bed-places. We find our hotel
nicely furnished and elegantly fitted up, with all the mod-
ern conveniences. But the mosquitoes are dreadfully bad.

Wednesday, July 21st, we spend in sight-seeing. One
thins: that amuses us as much as anything else is their way
of marketing. Their ** wagons" are donkeys, which are
loaded until you can see little except the ears and tail, and
then the vender piles himself up on the top, with a pair of
scales in his hands. They weigh everything — peaches, figs,
tomatoes, oranges, lemons, cabbage, prunes, etc., having no
use for any measures, except for liquids. I am not sure but
that they weigh these. These wagons are carried around

88 A Tbip Abroad.

from house to house and backed up upon the side walks to
the doors, so that each house-keeper can supply herself with
the necessary articles with but little trouble. They are the
smallest I ever saw ; but I am not surprised at this, when
they have to carry such enormous loads. The horses, too,
are the leanest, poorest, shabbiest, imaginable. But the
drivers certainly know how to lay on the lash. Most of the
vehicles have brakes, and they put them on while going
down grade, and then beat the horses to make them pull
them, thus keeping them in a strain all the time, up aud
down hill.

The people literally live out of doors. "For pleasure and
for toil the open air is sought. The various craftsmen at
work add picturesqueness to the view as you ride along ;
the tailor, preparing garments; the cobbler, hammering a
shoe ; the joiner, pushing his plane ; the juggler, playing his
tricks; the scribe, insensible to the jargon, taking down the
messages directed by the unlettered; the poulterer, plucking
his fowls; the cook preparing his macaroni; the scullion
scouring his pans; the barber lathering dusky faces; the
buflFoon, the soldier, the mattress maker and the vegetable
vender; the dirty monk and crippled beggar crying for
alms ; the story-teller reciting, for a few centimes, tales of
war or songs of love ; the traveling Esculapius shouting his
drugs, and the stooping crone mumbling aloud the hymn
or prayer as an appointed penance. Then there are the
screaming, swearing muleteers and cartmen, beating their
donkeys with unmerciful stripes, as they try to draw the
heavy, overloaded carts up the high hill. The society with
a long name would have business enough here to employ a
thousand agents.

" Then the pedestrians who, in absence of sidewalks in
many places, take the streets ; men, women and children of
all sorts and conditions; some well dressed or uniformed,
but oftener those of tawny skin and greasy smell ; the young
of both sexes with scant attire and with as little modesty ;

Strsst Scenes in Naples. 89

naked babes in motherly arras ; laborers ^ ith little more on
than a simple covering about the loins, such as bathers
wear; fruit venders and lemonade carriers, dodging in and
out between the vehicles and yelling all the while ; army
officers with clanking spurs and shining scabbards ; navy
captains in blue and gold ; sailors and newsboys, priests and
friars; gendarmes, cattle drivers, and charcoal sellers — these
are some of the fifty thousand which, it is said, may at any
hour of the day be found on the Toledo or along the grand
Piazza, in a babbling, yelling, crushing, confusing crowd,
with fifteen hundred diff*erent vehicles besides, to say noth-
ing of those on horse-back. The bright eyes, raven tresses,
and musical voices of the Neapolitans, of which some glow-
ing writers speak, are absent from the picture. The poetry
of the scene you expected is lost in the prosy facts before
you ; in bright-eyed daughters of Italy who do not know
their own mother tongue ; in the streets where flowers and
filth, fruit and folly are seen in delightful kindred, and
where one-third of the people we meet remind us of the
plague in pantaloons and the small-pox in the unwashed
chemise of the maiden; in palaces at the doors of which
women sit in filth and wretchedness, raking out the matted ,
tangled hair which grows on the senseless pates of each
other, and in nightly assassinations and daily debauches.
Poets may portray Naples as one of the outposts of Paradise
itself, but to me (says Dr. Eddy) it will be associated with
fallen, degraded, dishonored, enslaved and besotted people."
And so say I.

A visit to the museum of Naples very well prepares us
for the sights of Pompeii. It is natural to feel, after wit-
nessing what is to be seen in the British Museum, the
Louvre at Paris, and the museums in Rome, that you have
seen everything werth your attention. But this impression
is soon gone when you enter this extensive storehouse of
wonders, modern and ancient, but more especially the latter.
You find here the principal curiosities which are the result

90 A Trii^ Abroad.

of the excavations and researches-at Pompeii and Hercu-
laneum. Here you may see a plat of a piece of ground
dedicated to Mars twenty five centuries ago! Here are some
relics from Memphis; here a crucifix from Mamre; here an
ivory box from China ; there a glass amphora containing
olives found at Pompeii in 1872, another containing grains
of wheat, still another with charred figs, almonds, grapes,
etc. Here lies a purse with three coins in it of the time of
Vespasian. Here are pieces of the garments found on the
bodies which were dug up among the ruins of the unfortu-
nate cities. They are all charred, and some reduced to
ashes. Some of the private life of these Pompeiians is
brought to light in one apartment which it would not be
decent to mention. The room is closed to women and
children. The words over the door explain the reason :
"Obscene Objects." And then we see necklaces of gold and
precious stones worn by the potentates of long ago, as well
as their bracelets, rings, ear-rings, etc., etc.; the loaded dice,
which indicate that money was gained by fraud then, just
as now.

The paintings and specimens of fine art, carving, sculp-
ture, etc., are too numerous to mention. But I will tell you
of the sword of Alexander Farnese, the hilt of which is
inlaid with rubies, turquoises and amethysts; the silver
ferrule of the sheath is adorned with precious stones. But
long before we have seen all, we become so weary that we
are compelled to rest. Now comes the " tug of war." Here
we are, we know not where. Neither of us has ever studied
Italian, and so we must work our way back to the hotel the
best way possible. By means of a little phrase-book which
I purchased in London, I manage to get a little brat on a
barouche to understand where I want to go. After taking
us about two miles out of the way, he finally lands us in
sight of the hotel. Dinner consists of the usual six or a
dozen courses, and we finish in about an hour or an hour
and a quarter.

MusBUM AT Naples. 91

How about Vesuvius and Pompeii? The heat is too
frightful to undertake the trip in the day; but we cannot
afford to come this near without seeing them. So, after
dinner we again go down street to see what we can do in
this direction. We find the oJB5ce of a company which
makes regular excursions to Vesuvius every night. But
none of them speak English I I try what little French I
know, but to little purpose. I then "pitch into" my Italian,
and you need not wonder if I *' murder the kingV — Italian 1
Do the best I can, and finally succeed in getting the clerk
to understand what I want. But the charges are so enor-
mous that we decide to take a private vehicle and take in
Pompeii on our return. After a good deal of search we find
a coachman who is somewhat reasonable in his charges^ and
partially bargain with him. As we ride along nearing the
hotel, the animal that is pulling our vehicle meets another
and begins to kick, rear and ran for dear life. Shall not soon
forget the appearance of my friend, as he turned out over
the wheels. Finally the driver manages to check the steed
and I get out. Pretty soon he begins to kick and run again,
and ere long falls upon one of the shafts and breaks it.
This quite discourages us, and we feel but little disposed to
employ the team. The driver, however, insists that he can
manage him and will hitch another with him and insure
us a safe trip. Nine o'clock P. M., is agreed upon as the
hour for starting. Our encounter with the clerk at the
hotel, who wants to charge us double rates, would amuse
you.

92 A Tbip Abboas.

CHAPTER XIV.

»

VESUVIUS AND POMPEII.

The hour arrives and up comes our vehicle. The driver
can speak just about as much English as I can Italian,
and I tell you we have a time of it. I am not a little
amused at my friend, who persists in asking questions (in
English) with reference to the dangers of the trip. The re-
plies of the driver evidently show that he does not under-
stand what is meant. " Do you think there is any danger
in going up to the crater to»night?" " Oh, yes," replies the
driver. " Do you really think we will happen to any mis-
fortune?"- *' Oh, yes, yes," says he. It requires only a' few
such answers to fully satisfy us, and we let him alone.

We pass over a little arm -of the bay, around on the
southern side, and, after going five or six miles, emerge
from the suburbs of Naples. The way becomes rough,
then hilly, then craggy, then precipitous. Here is some of
the lava of the eruption of 1767. The road now becomes
zigzag, for the ascent is so steep that it is impossible to go
directly up. As we look ahead, we can see in the moon-
light its winding course for some miles, for the whole sur-
face of the mountain is a bed of hardened lava, (except one
side) on which not even grass can grow. (This lava looks
a good deal like the dross that is thrown out from black-
smith-shops.)

We have now ascended some distance up the rugged
waste. Casting our eyes behind us, we witness a scene that
it does not often fall to the lot of man to gaze upon. The
row of gas-lights which border upon the semi-circular bay
on the side of the, city, is beautifully reflected from the sur-
face of the placid waters, forming a double illumination.
The full moon, in all her beauty, floats calmly throqgh the
cloudless sky, overhanging the scene, and bathing all nature

ASOBNT Ot VKStJVlUS. 93

in her silverry light, which is reflected from the lorely waters
below as from a gilded mirror. Across this sea of sparkling
gold, innumerable white-sailed vessels glide^ while star after
star peeps out from the blue vault above, as if to add its
smile to tlie picture in the production of whose beauties
nature has exhausted herself. No pen of fiction, no brush
of art, can rival, can compare, with this master-piece of the
handiwork of the great Artist above. We proceed a little fur-
ther, when we see, in the way just ahead, three objects— one
white, one partially sO/ the third black. The moon-'light does
not show the outlines clearly enough to define them. Upon
nearer approach we find that they are human beingS/ who, as
we drive up, separate, two on onaside of the road and one on
the other. As the vehicle comes up between them, we discover
that one has a huge club, or staff, in his liand. Another is
dressed as if he had just gotten out of bed. The third has
his coat oflf. They join themselves to the barouche, as we
pass along, one taking hold of it (on my side) under the
seat of the driver, while another seized that part above
which I sit. They begin a spirited conversation with the
driver in Italian, and it just fiiashes upon our minds that,
may be, we are in the hands of a squad of robbers,^ the ac-
complices of our driver! Here we are, several miles from
any other human being, so far as we know, and it is now
about midnight I For two or three miles' travel we are in
this state of uncertainty, not knowing whithjr we are car-
ried, and totally destitute of any weapons of defense. At
last we come to a halt, and the driver informs us that this
is the end of the driving Way, and, as he must take charge
of the team, we sl>all have to go without him. By this time
we hear the jingle of bells attach-ed to the teamsof the regular
line of excursions, which are bringing a company up to see
the sights of Vesuvius. Tlie three men who met us by the
way step up and offer their services as guides to the top, two
miles away. Now we just find out what they have been

94 A Trii> Abroad.

following us for, during these several miles — after making
a franc.

We cast around among them and select the most trust*
worthy looking, and bargain with him as to the charges for
his services. (We have learned that, unless we do this be-
forehand, there is no such thing as satisfying an Italian,
and we invariably do it) As we start off, the other two>
with still- another, who has, in the meantime, joined the
party, start with us. We insist that they shall not go with
us, but they persist in going* We tell them that we have
employed but one guide, and propose to pay but one. They
agree to that. Away we go over the rough beds of lava*
For nearly a mile the way is comparatively level, (not
smooth — anything else.) At last what is known as the
" cone " is reached. This is a pile of lava, conical in shape^
almost perpendicular, and about a mile in height. Much
of this has disintegrated and become like very coarse, rough,
dry sand, and has slidden down the cone until there is quite
a bed of it at and near the base* Just here is a little tavern
of a place where they keep water and what they call
" lachryma Christi,'* (tears of Christ,) a kind of wine, to re-
fresh the traveler before starting on this fatiguing journey.
The " lachryma Christi " we do not try, but the water is un*
doubtedly the worst I have yet tasted — warm, brackish,
with a taste of sulphur, it is almost " undrinkable."

There is an inclined railway which is run by electricity
and reaches nearly to the top. But we prefer to climb, and
so here we go, over this, bed of disintegrated lava, nearly-
half knee deep every step. Again these three men present
themselves for our assistance, with long leather straps,
which they throw over their shoulders and beg us to swing
to behind them, with the assurance that they will pull u^
up safely and that for only three francs, about sixty cents of
our money. We positively refuse, but they persist in their
pleading, until we have gone fully half way up. They find
that we are in earnest and two of them leave us ; but the

Ascent of Vesuvius. 95

other follows us to the top and back again to the vehicle,
hoping to get something from us. After going nearly to
the top, we meet an old man loaded with a wallet of bottles
of water and "lachryma Christi " for sale. We do not pur-
chase, for "a burnt child dreads the fire.*' A small bottle
of this miserable water costs only a quarter of a dollar. At
the top we find the same one, or another, with raw eggs
which he proposes to cook over one of the cracks near the
crater. We have him do so, as we wish to add a little
romance to our trip. In the meantime we lie down to rest
.ourselves. Smelling an unusual odor, and feeling a little
heat on one of my hands, I begin to examine my surround-
ings and find a small crack into which I put my hand. Oh,
it burns, and you may be sure I get away as fast as possible I
By this time the eggs are cooked, and we devour them, and
find that they cost only fifteen cents apiece!

We now go up upon a cliff, so as to get a view down into
the crater. The light, which looked like a little torch
viewed from Naples, has increased into a huge furnace-
looking place, from which tremendous volumes of smoke
pour out, while now and then a noise, somewhat like that
caused by the steam which escapes from the exhaust'-pipe of
an engine, issues forth, bringing with it quantities of lava,
the most of which again falls back into ttie crater, several
yards in diameter. And oh, what a terrible spectacle it
presents! Grand, sublime, awful! Boiling, fuming, stewing,
smoking, flaming, this inexhaustible gulf of inextinguishable
fire burns on and reminds one of Pollock's descriptioo of
the infernal regions. We go around toward the other side,
where there is a very large crack from which the lava issues
most of the time, and which, at night, looks like a stream
of curdling blood. We fear to go too near, for it is ex*
tremely dangerous to inhale the sulphurous gas which is
emitted.

96

A TbII* Abroad,

THE DESCENT.

The descent is on another side* A good deal of the way,
as we ascend, we have to climb over I'ough beds of hardened
lava. But the side on which we descend is entirely covered
with the coarse, sand-like, disintegrated mass. The descent
is certainly comical. There is no such thing as walking
down ; it is all done in a run-^sliding, slipping, jumping,

THE DESCENT.

Scraping, going about ten feet at every step, and burying
my feet half way to my knees, almost 6very stride^ in the
disintegrated laVa. It requires only six minutes to come
the mile! It would amuse you to see me chasing the guide
doWn. He got the better of me going up, butj I tell you, I
" give bim jessy" coming down. He is compelled to go, for
he is just in front of me, and I am coming in his tracks at
the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour I Once we ran upon

The Descent. 97

a hard place a few feet square, and I come very near plung-
ing " heels-over-head," right down the mountain, on the
top of the fleeing Italian. Believe I shall not tell you the
condition of my low-quartered shoes when we reach the
base. Mr. Paimore, who is a little indisposed to-night, is
left at least half a mile up the mountain-side, in the exciting
part of the chase.

Walking about a mile further, we come to the place where
we left our vehicle. But there is nothing to be seen of it.
Has the driver left us here in the hands of these ruflSans,
taken our baggage and gone ? Ah, that is the question I
We hurry on for some distance, and finally run up with
him, a mile or so lower down. We hitch up and off we go.

Going around on the north fjide of the volcano, we pass
several small towns or villages. In fact, the most of the
road is thronged with houses, and the whole way presents
a long, narrow village, generally with but one street. The
sun is now up. All animate nature is busy ; for it is so
warm here in the summer, that what is done must be done
early in the morning, or late in the afternoon. Here is a
man with a backet in his hand, among a flock of goats,
milking them with all his might Goat's milk is considered
quite a delicacy in this section, and some of the hotels ad-
vertise it on their bills of fare, so as to induce patronage.
('' I don't like milk, no how.") Here is a number of poles,
arranged one above another along the street, covered with
macaroni, drying. There are a good many dirty-looking
sheets also spread out on the side of the street or road, on
the p^round, covered with the same article — I mean the part
which is not black with dust or swarming with flies, for
there is nothing to keep off the dust which rises from the
multitudes of vehicles passing, nor to drive away the flies,
which congregate in swarms almost like bees. In some
places, children, with but one garment on, are seen crawling
about over it. I might say, to make a long story short,
that all of the dirt and filth possible accumulates on this
7

98 A Trip Abroad.

article, of which some Americans are so fond^ while it is in
a ^tate of preparation for the market.

Fine fields of Indian corn spread along the way, the first
of any consequence that I have seen since my arrival in
Europe* And then here is one of those old-fashioned mills
refered to in the Scriptures, turned by two women. (The
women do most of the work in this country.) We pass
along further and encounter several tretnendous carts
Joaded with bags, filled, apparently, with meal or flour,
piled up until there seems to be enough for four horses to
pull, all drawn by six or eight men each, with nothing on
their bodies save a thin pair of linen trousers, and these are
rolled up to their knees. Further still and we see the mar-
ket wagons, loaded with beef, mutton, etc., which, I think,
would sicken an American dog I Such are some of the
eights which greet us as we enter

POMPEII.

We haven't yet had breakfast, and so we go to the- hotel
for it. If I should minutely describe what our food consists
of, and how it is prepared, there isn't a reader of this book
who would not think me to be exaggerating, and I shall
refrain, lest some one think I " stretch my blanket." Suffice
it to say, that the flies are numerous enough to hive 1

The region around Pompeii is volcanic, and a short time
before the final overthrow, a frightful earthquake visited the
city and demolished several houses. Pliny^ the younger
was at Misenuha at the time of the overthrow, and describes
the " horrors of the hour ; the black smoke that suddenly
burst from Vesuvius and spread over the cloudless sky, like
the shade of a mighty tree, till all was dark } the shrieks of
men, women and children, seeking each other, but knowing
each other only by their cries; invocations to the gods ; thfe
falling of the ashes like a funeral pall, the fringes of which
touched Africa on the south and Bome on the north, lead-

The City of the Dead. 99

ing the people there to say, ' The world is overturned ;' the
appearancfe of the stars, and finally the sun, pallid, as if in
an eclipse. The stifling ashes were followed by showers of
hot stones and torrents of black mud, which formed an en-
casing cement that sealed up till now the secrets and treas-
ures of this gay and godless city."

This occurred August 24th, 79, the population at this
time being thirty thousand. Two thousand of these per-
ished in the horrible disaster, but less than seven hundred
of the bodies have been found. ^ Charles III., of Naples,
made the first explorations in 1748, but not much was done
until 1860. The whole aspect of the country was changed
by the eruption, the course of the river Sarno was diverted,
and the sea was pushed back considerably. The streets are
very narrow — from ten to fifteen feet wide — and the pave-
ments are worn by the wheels of the chariots and ox teams
in some places from six to twelve inches^ deep. In a
good many places the walls are covered with inscriptions.
Here are some scribbled on by school-boys ; there are the
amorous outbursts of lovers ; here the jokes, witticisms and
epigrams of wits and scholars ; there contributions of the
vulgar and the degraded.

A recital of the condition of the skeletons found — those of
men and animals — would be tedious and, perhaps, uninter-
esting; and yet it is diflScult to refrain from speaking of
some of the pathetic sights that meet our eyes — the mother
and the daughter in close proximity ; the delicate maiden
prostrate on the earth, trying to shield her face and eyes
from the fearful consequences of the liquid fire, by holding
her arm over them; the mother embracing the tender
infant ; the miser crouching over his gold ; the faithful dog
keeping night watch ; the burdened ox, plodding along
under his heavy load.

And then, too, there are the mills which the slaves had to
turn, sometimes like Samson, with their eyes plucked out;,
the instruments of the surgeon; the vessels in which the

957801A

100 A Trip Abroad.

liquor venders kept their spirits; the physician's pills, and
the barber's soaps and unguents, — all just as they were left
on that fatal August morning ! We must give you a glimpse
of the houses of Adonis, Diomede, Marcus Lucretius, Niobe,
Polybius and Sallust, — and let you peep into the " vaulted
niche," where Was found the skeleton of that immortal
Roman soldier, M. Cerrinius, who stood firm at his place
amidst this " wreck of matter and crush of worlds," prefer-
ring to die in faithful discharge of his duties, rather than
desert bis post even in this horrible catastrophe.

" The giant works of elder days,

The lofty forms that were—
Are vanished now ; and we hut gaze

On what the ruins are.
The humhlest shed, the loftiest tower,
Confess alike the sovereign power

Of Time— the mighty one."

On our return we pass

HKRCULANEUM,

which suflfered the same fate as did Pompeii. "Nothing
more thrillingly impressive could be conceived than these
TOWS of petrified bodies of man, bird and beast, exhumed
after eighteen centuries, and still exhibiting the marks of
the pain and horror which attended their living entomb-
ment. The swooning fugitives fell one by one, sometimes
locked in each other's embrace, and sometimes huddled
together. Seventeen bodies in a standing posture were
found in the wine cellar of Diomede. A mother and three
children sank together beneath the sulphurous showers ; a
young man and a maid, near the baths, clasped in each
other's arms; a woman clutching her bag of gold, and the
soldier grasping his spear. You will see here a giant frame,
the limbs straight as if calmly placed, the sandals laced,
and the nails in the soles distinct; the iron ring on the
finger, the moustache clinging to his lip, and the aspect of

The City of the Dead. 101

the whole that of resoluteness and courage. Here is a girl,
not over fifteen, who fell in running. She had covered her
face, and the bent fingers show that she held fast the tunic,
or veil. Her arms are bare, and the short sleeves are rent.
The stitches of her dress, the smooth flesh, and the delicate
embroidery of her shoes are clearly seen. There is another
figure, representing what was once a Pompeiian lady of
wealth, as shown by the delicate hands and silver rings,
the keys, jewels, costly urns, and ninety-one pieces of coin
found under her body. Hers w^as a death of anguish and
continued agony, as shown by the swollen and convulsed
body.

" Another had one hundred and twenty-seven silver coins
and sixty-nine of gold, and fell near the Herculaneum gate.
The priest of Isis had cut through two walls, and fell, suffo-
cated, at the foot of the third, grasping his axe. The pris-
oners in the barracks, rivited to an iron rack ; the mule in
the bakery; the horses shut up in the tavern of Albinus;
the goat, with the bell tied to his neck ; a dove in a garden
niche, refusing to leave her nest — these all tell of the sud-
den, pitiless, over-powering calamity as no pen is able
to do."

" That night as I looked at mid-night from the balcony
of my hotel, at Naples, across the bay and saw the lurid
glare of that devouring flame, trembling, palpitating in the
darkness, I seemed to hear ihe old warning which men are
so slow to heed, * Your sin will find you out!' These cities
of the plain gave themselves over to uncleanness and strange
flesh, and were * set forth for an example, suflering the ven-
geance of eternal fire.' Religion, art and morals were thor-
oughly corrupt. The practical lesson which the English-
speaking race have to learn is this, that refinement of man-
ners, aesthetic culture and wealth of intellectual life, can
never atone for moral impurity ; and that unless the pro-
gress of corruption be stayed, which is now going on, fed by
vile literature, lewd pictures, indecent theatric displays and

102 A Trip Abroad.

other degrading amusements, the same indignation of God
will burn against us. May all who have any influence in
moulding the character of the Nineteenth century never
forget this one lesson of the First century." To which I add
a hearty " Amen !"

CHAPTER XV.

FROM NAPLES TO FLORENCE.

It would be very difficult to give a just conception of the
condition of the people in Southern and Central Italy.
Signs of social degradation are unmistakable. The cottages
have thaiched roofs, and the dirt and filth are such as to
disgust the least fastidious. Some one, in speaking of this
part of Italy, has said : " Girls and women, bending under
huge burdens, walk along the roads in the scorching sun,
sometimes hanging for support to the tail of a donkey that
is almost hidden by his burden of corn in the ear. Filthy,
crippled and deformed beggars crowd about the fence that
surrounds railroad stations and utter a monotonous cry for
money." Water is very scarce through this section, and
irrigation is very common. They dig wells, or holes, all
about at convenient distances in the fields, and have buckets
attached to old-fashioned sweep-poles. Then there are ditches
which run from the wells in different directions. These are
filled with water, and it is conducted into the part of the
field needing it and turned into the furrows among the rows
of corn. The land is so level that comparatively little
trouble or labor accompanies this operation, which is neces-
sary all through this part of the country, on account of the
heat and droughts which visit this region almost every
year.

Florence. 103

In going from JNfaples to Florence, (Fireuzi, as they call
it), we pass over the same road as far as Rome. Here we
change cars and pack in, for most of the travel is going
north, and we find ourselves frequently very much crowded.
We are on the road all night, and pass through a beautiful
country, all among the Apennines, arriving about 6 o'clock
in the morning at

FLORENCE.

This beautiful city of one hundred and seventy thousand
inhabitants is elegantly situated immediately upon the
banks of the Arno, the same stream which flows through
Pisa. The craggy peaks of the Apennines look down upon
the fertile plains and smiling valley, while the rippling
stream heaves its sparkling waters onward to the sea ; and
the whole, viewed from the terraces of San Miniate, presents
a lovely appearance.

** Olrt by her theatre of hills, sbe reaps
Her com, and wine, and oil, and Plenty leaps
To laughing life, with her redundant horn.
Along the banks where smiling Arno sleeps;.
Was modern luxury of Commerce born,
And buried Learning rose redeemed to a new morn.'^

Florence has been appropriately called the "Athens of
Italy.*' Here were the homes of Dante, Galileo, Da Vinci,
Raphael and Brunellesco; here the scene of the martyrdom
of three men of God in 1498; here the family of Medici
figured most largely. The history of Florence is the history
of Tuscany, and there are many things of historical interest
which might be mentioned, but for fear of becoming tedious,
I desist.

We first visit the Baptistery, the oldest church in Florence,
built in the Fourth Century. It contains the font from
which all the Catholic children are sprinkled, and also the
tomb of Pope John XXIII. The priest is officiating, and,
^mid the ceremonies^ a little boy stands n.ear, and at inter-

104 A Trip Abkoad.

vals shakes his robOy around whose skirt are numbers of
bells, which jingle in such a way as to remind one quite
forcibly of sleigh bells. This is the, building which has the
bronze doors which Michael Angelo said were worthy to he
the gates of Paradise. Two of them required the labors of
Ghiberti forty years ! " They represent Scripture scenes,
and swing on porphyry columns, which were a gift from
Pisa in 1200." One of them weighs twenty-four thousand
pounds ! Just opposite is the Cathedral, whose double dome
is three hundred feet high, and was the first reared in Europe.
The whole of the structure is of white and black marble,
arranged in alternate layers. The principle objects of in-
terest on the inside are the banners borne by the Crusaders
to the Holy Land, and the last work of Michael Angelo,
wheu seventy-one years of age, " The Dead Christ."

The Santa Croce is termed the Westminster Abbey of
Italy. It is a magnificent structure, but the interior inter-
ests me more than the outside appearance. Just here, un-
der a monument crowned with three statues — Painting,
Sculpture and Architecture — rests the ashes of Michael
Angelo. Besides the elegant monument to Dante, which
stands in the square in front of the church; there is also
one on the inside, representing him standing between Italy
and Poetry. Italy is saying, "Honor the highest of poets."
Here are the tombs of Alferio, Machiavelli and Corsini.
Just there is what is known as the Bonaparte Gallery, where
sleep the remains of Charlotte, niece of Napoleon, and the
wife of Joseph, his brother. King of Spain. Here also
sleeps Galileo, until the trump of God* shall awake him.
We will pay our respects to the Chapel de Medici, too,
where members of the family lie buried. This is one of the
most costly buildings of its size in the world. There is a
little niche built expressly to hold the Holy Sepulchre, but
it happened not to be brought from Jerusalem. The walls
are studded with precious stones^ a good part being of Cor«

In and About Florence. 105

sican jasper, porphyry, Ac. There are five stones at one
place which cost twenty millions francs, fouF millions of
dollars.

THE UPFIZI GALLERY.

I should like to tell you of what I see in the Uffizi Gal-
lery — the painting eight hundred years old ; the bnsts of all
the Roman Emperors; the ** Venus de Medici " ; the por-
traits of all the principal artists, painted by themselves^
several hundred in all; the elegant specimens of tapestry;
Titian's " Beauty," etc., etc., — but time and space forbid -,. for
there is material here on which to write a volume. We
also visit the house of Michael Angek>, in itself a gem of in-
teresting memories. And just here the last words of thi&
venerable man, nearly ninety years of age »t his death,
come into my mind : " In your passage through this life^
never, never forget the suflferings of Jesus Christ."

In the afternoon, we go outside of the walls — the very
fortifications planned by M. Angelo — to San Miniate, a
considerable elevation, from which one gets a magnificent
view of the city and surrounding country for many miles.
Why, there stands the tower around which Angelo put mat-
tresses, to prevent its destruction by the enemy, in the seigo
of Pope Clement VII. and Charles V. of Spain. Here^ too^
is the observatory of Galileo, from which he nightly watched
the movements and computed the distances of the heavenly
bodies. There are also many unpleasant things connected
with the history of this part of Italy ; their persecutions and
cruelty, such as walling into the masonry living captives.
Headly tells of a skeleton which he saw in the walls of a
church some miles out of town. The bent toe-bones and the-^
position of the arm-bones, show what a horrible death his-
must have been, suSbcated in the walls of a church I It was
discovered in making some changes, and, it is thought, was
made the source of gain, as well as an object of dread. It
has been there for centuries, and yet it will there remain

106 A Trip Abroad.

until the thraldom of Roman Catholicism is dispelled from
the fair, sunny land. " What a picture imagination paints
of such a scene, the struggle before he was bound and placed
in the jagged niche; the hurried dash of mortar and ring of
trowel on, the settling stone; the slow rising of the wall over
the stiffening knees, and beating heart, and praying lips,
till only the white forehead remained ; the last fragment
fitted and the murderous deed complete I And all this in a
Christian church dedicated to the beloved disciple I"

Thank God such things have passed away, and the sway
of his infallible (?) majesty — the Pope — is not only now, but
has been since 1848, fast losing ground. Our guide tells us
that the time was when one dared not express his views, if
they did not coincide with the then predominent idea, that
the Pope was infallible, at the penalty of losing his head.
Now, he says, none believe these absurd things, except the
lowest and most ignorant classes. But the saddest part of
it all is, that, in, the absence of the gospel, they are fast
going into free-thinking, each man making his own God
and worshiping him according to his own idea of right.
He says there are scarcely any ardent Catholics now in Italy,
save the Pope, priests, and those who make their living
from the gain they derive from their positions ; and he is a
Catholic, too, and an unusually intelligent man. It amuses
him, he says, sometimes to see the zeal of some American
Catholics who visit Italy ; but their ardor soon cools, when
they witness the degradation and misery of their trans-
Atlantic brethren. Italy truly is ripe for the harvest, and
presents an inviting field to the lovers of the Lord Jesus
Christ. Send them the gospel. They are ready, nay hun-
gering, perishing for it May God incline our hearts to send
or carry it to them.

A ride of one hundred and eighty-two miles takes us, first
through the Tuscan Apennines, one of the grandest parts of
Europe, oyer bridges, tunnels (forty-five in all) and galleries
in uninterrupted succession ; then we obtain beautiful views

Wonders in Venice. 107

of the valleys and gorges, and of the luxuriant plains of
Tuscany, *' the Garden of Italy," pass Bologna, the broad
valley of the Po, along by Padua, and at 4:30 P. M. reach

VENICE,

the Queen of the Adriatic. The fields of hemp along the
road especially attract our attention. In some places the
stalks are ten or fifteen feet high. The corn, too, is splendid,
and the yield in the wheat crops seems to be enormous.
We step out of the train and, in the language of Mark
Twain, '^into a hearse" — gondola. There are scores, if not
hundreds, of them in waiting. They are about thirty feet
long, and three or four wide, tapering off at each end into a
point. They are invariably black, and are lined with black
cloth or velvet, and have pillows, or morocco cushions, for
seats. Each has a little cabin, with windows, curtains and
a mirror, which occupies the centre, and can easily be re-
placed by an awning. The prow rises in front to the height
of the cabin, and is crowned with polished steel. They are
propelled by one, two or four gondoliers, who stand, if one,
behind; if more, near both ends. Their movements are as
graceful as a nymph, but their dress is scant, consisting of a
blue flannel blowse trimmed with white. The gondolas
were once very gay, but the salt water so changed them that
they became very expensive and the Republic forbade the
use of colors in the trimmings, and clothed them all in
black. There are two thousand of them constantly gliding
back and forth through the canals, as noiseless as a ghost
and as graceful as a swan. One thousand of this number
belong to private families, while the others are for public
use, and kept for hire. You, can rent one by the day, for
about two dollars and a half, gondolier and all ; go when
and where you please, provided you make an agreement be-
fore starting. If not, you may look out for trouble. The

108

A Tbip Abroad.

Wonders in Venice. 109

gondoliers always expect " la bois," (a few centimes extra,
for a drink.)

Venice, you know, is situated on a number of small
islands two or three miles from the main land. It was first
settled, they say, by the inhabitants of upper Italy, who fled
hither in small boats, to escape the cruel treatment of the
barbarian hosts of the North in their invasions. As there
was no such thing known then as ships of war, it was an
easy matter for them to defend themselves from any attack
by land, being thus entirely cut off from all communica-
tion, save by water. There are seventy-two islands within
the corporate limits and covered by the city, with thirty-
two more immediately surrounding, (one hundred and four
in all.) These are connected by three hundred and eighty-
eight bridges, three hundred of which are public, — the
others private. There are only two bridges across the Grand
Canal, which winds through the city in the form of the
letter S, and yet one well acquainted can go to any part of
Venice on foot. There are one hundred and twenty small
canals, only six feet deep, used for ordinary purposes. The
Grand Canal, however, is sixteen feet deep, and, in front of
St. Mark's, twenty-six feet. The average width of these
canals is ten or twelve feet, except the Grand, which is from
fifty to one hundred feet. The population is about one
hundred and thirty thousand.

It looks very strange to see fashionable young ladies come
out of their marble palaces, dressed within an inch of their
lives, get into a boat and glide off to pay "pop calhJ^ (Al-
most every house in Venice is contiguous to one or more of
these canals, so that with a gondola one can go just where
he chooses.) They row up to the front door and get out on
the steps I At certain times of the day, you may see from
two to a dozen children, boys and girls, with strings or
ropes tied to the front door steps, in bathing.

How convenient to have a bath house at one's door I Of
course, all the filth and stench of the city are cast into the

no A Trip Abroad.

water, and there seems to be such a thing as coming out in
as bad condition as when one goes in ; for besides all this,
every thing that falls overboard from the boats which carry
merchandise, floats on these streets of slime. And yet, for
all this, there are many things to charm, especially when we
remember the former glory of Venice. Byron has beauti-
fully expressed it :

" I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs,

A palace and a prison on each hand ;
I saw from otit the waves her structure rise,

As ftrom. the stroke of the enchanter "» wand.
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand

Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O'er the far times when many a subject land

Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles,
Where Venice sat in state, throned on her hundred isles."

The cars now run to the city over the famous bridge,
which is two and a half miles long, all of brick, stopping
at the end of the Grand Canal. Reaching the hotel, we
brush off the worst of the dust and prepare for a ramble.
Dinner is served, at which we meet a young man from Ala-
bama, who has somewhat familiarized himself with the
places of special interest, and who proposes to stroll with
us. We go down to the large open Piazza, or square, in
front of St. Mark's, where we find hundreds of gondolas
waiting, like cabs around public squares in New York.
The moon has just made its appearance over the historic
waves of the blue Adriatic, and is occasionally veiled by
the fleecy clouds which glide through the star-lit sky.
Evening zephyrs fan the brows of the mixed multitude,
kissing alike the rosy cheeks of the fair American belle, the
swarthy dimples of the Italian beauty, and the furrowed
brows of the haggard faces of beggars, with a surprising
impartiality. Everything invites to a ride. We enter a
" hearacj^ and glide slowly, sweetly, noiselessly away. Up
the Grand Canal we go, viewing the palaces of the princes
of former years on either side, and ever and anon meeting
a gondola w^ith a merry, joyous throng* There is a caff6 at

Wonders in Vkniciu. Ill

the wharf, brilliantly illuminated, having a fine band of
music to attract the passers-by. In front there are chairs
and settees, arranged around tables^ to accommodate hun^
dreds of people, and they are all occupied. Europe has not
some of the luxuries which we enjoy in America— such as
ice-cream, soda water, lemonade, etc. They have something
that they use in their place, but to m<e they are poor substi-
tutes. But, all over the country, their principal drinks are
wine and beer— men, women and children drink these.

Now we will take a short walk around the square in front
of St. Mark's Cathedral. St. Mark's is to Venice what St.
Peter's is to Rome. There is a kind of gallery, or colon-
nade, on three sides of the square, on a level with the pave-
ment. All along this there are little stores, shops and
saloons, foil of their articles of merchandise, which consist
principally of jewelry of every conceivable kind, cutlery^
photographic and stereoscopic views^ books, albums, glass-
ware and notions generally. A good deal of the jewelry is-
of Venetian gold — the same as that of which candle-sticks
are made in America. One of their principle industries is
the work in glass; and it is wonderful how many different
articles they can manufacture from it— bracelets, necklaces,
cravats, hats, bonnets, dresses, and an endless catalogue of
other things. The curiosities in this line are sufficient to-
repay one for a trip to Europe.

But it is time that we were paying our homage to king
Morpheus, for the hands of the clock in the tower point ta
X:30. So we make our way back through the crooked,
winding streets, so narrow in some places that you can
touch the walls on both sides with your hands — in fact,^
some of the alleys are just wide enough to admit one person
at a time, and if two happen to meet, they have to turn
side-wise and squeeze by.

There are no vehicles here, you know, and all their trans-
portation is by water. Consequently the night's repose is'
interrupted only by the continuous tread of the passing

112 A Trip Abroad.

multitude, — not even the barking of a dog, nor the mewing
of a cat is heard ! So, affectionately enfolded in the arms of
Somnus, the night glides sweetly away. The first soiind
that attracts my attention Sunday morning is that of a
human being, squalling at the top of his voice. I jump up
and put my head out of the window to see the cause of such
distress, and find a diminutive form passing along amid the
mixed throng, bearing across the back of his neck a pole
four or five feet long, to each end of which is attached a
huge tin vessel, and he toddles on crying, ^^ Aqua! aqaaT^
He has water for sale. In a little box he carries ice, and in
a small case, some bottles full of syrup and essence of lemon,
cinnamon, vanilla, sassafras,— or something stronger, "gw
you like t<." He offers a glass of water for five centimes
(one cent), and, if you wish it flavored, he squirts a little of
the syrup into it — just enough for you to taste it. There
are scores of these water venders passing, and they find
ready sale for their merchandise, for the heat is so op^
pressive in the middle of the day that any thing of a cool-
ing tendency is very acceptable.

CHAPTER XVL

ST. mark's.

It is the Sabbath day, as beautiful and bright as Om^
nipotence ever provided for the comfort of His crea-
tures. Our hotel (the Victoria) is only a short distance
from this grand cathedral, and the moving mass of hu-
manity naturally drifts us in that direction. It is the hour
of morning prayer, and as thera is no English church
within reach, so far as we know, we conclude to try to see
what kind of worship is conducted in this heart of Catholi-

Wonders in Venice. 113

cism. The priest is officiating, and the lad jingling the
bells that are fastened around the bottom of his robe. There
are two altars, one to the right and the other to the left
upon entering the centre door. For a while he stands in
front of one and goes through his manipulations, gesticu-
lations and genuflections, while an almost innumerable
multitude surrounds the altar, bowing, groaning, crossing
themselves, kneeling and counting their beads. He then
moves over to the other altar — the worshiping legion fol-
lows. There are hundreds of idle, curious lookers-on, evi-
dently from every nation, who walk leisurely around among
the mixed multitude. There are no pews, no seats, save,
perhaps, a dozen or two chairs scattered about over the vast
audience room. This is because they \^ish to place all,^
prince and peasant, on the same footing, making all stand,.
or kneel, as they like best. There are evidently but very
few who engage in the excercises, except the lowest and
most degraded classes. There, by a pillar, kneels an old
woman whose frame is bent with the weight of years, wor-
shiping a crucifix ; here is a decrepit male form, whose
head is as white as the almond tree, bowing in humble
adoration before a picture of the Virgin, apparently wholly
unconscious of the presence of intruders; there a thin, pale
face is raised heavenward, imploring aid from the Giver of
good, through the mediation of the departed Saint. These
are but specimens of the ragged, dirty, motley throng, who,
through ignorance and as dupes of the enlightened priest-
hood, weekly and daily bow here to the images of the saints
and the Saviour, in open violation of the command of
heaven, " Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image,
nor any likeness," etc. In the midst of it all a collection is
taken up to forward the cause. Sick at heart at witnessing
this idolatry in a Christian land, we turn away and make
our way back to the hotel.

While on this subject, let me tell you what we see here
Monday. I must tell you a legend, just at this point, with
8

114 A Trip Abroad.

reference to the body of the Evangelist, as told us by our
guide. It goessomewhat thus : St. Mark died at Alexandria,
in Egypt. Here his remains were sacredly preserved until
more than a thousand years ago, when two Venetian mer-
chants, on their return from that city, stole the body and
packed it in a basket, covering it with pork, and then shout-
ing the name of this offensive flesh in the ears of the Mus-
sulmans. " During the homeward voyage, the dead saint
had to take command of the ship in a storm, to save it from
•destruction. When he, or itj arrived, a grand reception was
tendered." After St. Mark's was erected, the remains were
deposited here, where they have since rested.

The whole structure is of marble, and, from the outside,
looks something like a mosque. The floor is all of mosaic
and is very undulating, owing to the sinking of the piles on
which it is built. The walls, too, are decorated with por-
traits, all in mosaic. One spot is of special interest. Upon
entering the centre door, you will find a red and white
diamond shaped piece of marble inserted in the floor. This
marks the place where Pope Alexander III., "robed in
pontifical vestments that blazed with jewels, placed his foot
on the neck of the prostrate German Emperor, repeating
the words of the 91st Psalm, " Thou shalt tread upon the
lion and adder, the young lion and the dragon shalt thou
trample under feet." Frederick Barbarossa (for he it was)
felt very much humiliated and murmured, " To St. Peter,
not to thee, I kneel!" Alexander trod on him the second
time with a more severe pressure, exclaiming, "To me and
.St. Peter !" Nor would he take his foot off*, until Frederick
was fully humbled. And this is not all, for he made the
poor Emperor hold the stirrup for him to mount his horse
at the door. This was all done to show the supremacy of
the Pope over even the Emperor. This is all authentic, but
I tell you that some of the other things pointed out by the
guide look very apochryphal. Dr. Thwing tells of a " vase
of the real blood of Christ, a part of the skull of John the

Wonders in Venice. 115

Baptisf These I do not see, but some others just as won-
derful, such as four columns of alabaster, brought from
Solomon's temple at Jerusalem, and they are exquisitely
beautiful and may be real; a baptismal font brought from
Constantinople in A. D. 1204 ; the stone on which John the
Baptist was beheaded — it is vein stone; the identical stone
on which Christ stood when he delivered the sermon on the
mount IJ! a vessel of holy water carried from Athens to
Constantinople, and brought thence to this place; a portrait
of the Virgin painted by St. Luke J and many other such
things. For all of these we have to pay ; in fact, it is here
like it is at Niagara Falls, every time you turn around you
have to pay I and it is pay ! pay J J pay ! I J

On the outside, just north of the building, is the tomb of
Daniel Manin, the last President of the Venetian Republic,
who was buried here in 1843. St. Mark's tomb is near by ;
and here are the winged lions of which we have all heard.
There are no other animals in Venice, (and the lions, of
course, are brass,) except three horses and a few cows which
are kept on one of the Islands in the suburbs as a show for
the children, which are carried out there on regular excur-
sions, just as some Americans do, when' a circus comes
around — take the children to see the animala. They are so
much crowded here that they have their flower stands, or
flower gardens, if you please, in many instances, on the tops
of the houses, as well as some of their fruit trees! Just
imagine an orchard in boxes on this elevated site I

The clock tower, too, presents quite an interesting spec-
tacle. It is arranged so as not only to point to the figures
on the dial, but also to give the time exactly by means of
numerals, which change every five minutes, and these are
below the face, so that you may read V: 25, V: 30, etc. Two
large images come out, or rather stand out, and strike the
hours; and once a year the figures of the apostles come out
and bow to the image of the Virgin, which crowns the
tower.

116 A Trip Abroad.

But come with us into our gondola and we will make a
yisit to some of the other places of interest. Here is the
church of St. Maria Saluta, built in the seventeenth cen-
tury, to stay the plague then ragina:, in which sixty thou-
sand persons were swept away ! Inside there is an elegant
painting, representing Venice kneeling and beseeching the
Virgin to stay the hand of destruction and desolation. The
dead were all buried within the city until the conquest of
Napoleon, who erected a cemetery outside and forbade the
continuance of this ruinous custom.

Gliding along the Grand Canal, we pass the palace of
Byron, in which he wrote Don Juan and some other pro-
ductions. In the church Frere is buried the heart of
Canova, his left hand is in Rome, his right hand in the
Academy of Fine Arts in Venice, and the rest of his body is
in one of the Venetian provinces. Here is also a monu-
ment to Titian, who revived the art of painting from a
living body, which was lost by the Greeks. Among other
strange things is a large painting, hanging here inthe church
for sale ! They don't seem to scruple to do anything to raise
money.

Here is the famous Rialto Bridge of ** a single marble
arch, ninety-one feet span, resting on twelve thousand piles,"
and was built in 1599. On both sides of it, ranged under
a covered way, are shops containing jewelry, fruit, fancy
wares and notions generally ; and they are so arranged as
to be very attractive. In passing over, I look on every side
for a place for the vehicles to go. Of course I find none,
for they have nothing of this kind. There is not a vehicle
in Venice. On the other side are the fruit and vegetable
markets, the square of Shylock's Rialto of Shakspeare, the
first Doge's palace, the place where the first distribution of
newspapers was ever made, the site of the first bank in the
world, the institution where anatomy was first practiced,
and the only street from which the angel that crowns St.
Mark's is visible.

Wonders in Venice. 117

At two o'clock exactly, nearly all of the pigeons in Venice
come to the open square in front of St. Mark's to be fed.
There are thousands of them, apparently, and it is very in-
teresting to see scores of men, women and children strew-
ing crumbs on the pavement, while hundreds of these gen-
tle birds flutter around, eager to pick up the particles of
food. This has been a custom with the inhabitants for
generations, and they are as careful to observe it as they are
to count their beads and "say their prayers." But it is
really strange to see hew promptly the pigeons come in from
every direction, just as the clock in the tower strikes two.

Continuing our gondola ride, we come to the palace of
Pizzaro, which is elegantly fitted up and handsomely fur-
nished. On the opposite side of the canal is one of the many
glass factories, where they make all kinds of glass-ware,
from beads, bracelets, necklaces and cravats, to dresses —
many of which, of course, such as the cravats, dresses, etc ,
are flexible. The wheels, spindles and furnaces are going,
and the strands of glass seem to be as fine and smooth' as
silk. This is one of the principle industries, and they have
certainly reduced it to a science.

Why here goes a gondola loaded with calves, not more
than one or two months old, on their way to the slaughter
pen. There goes a load of tobacco from " Old Virginnyy' as
well as a number of bales of cotton from India. Here is a
place where they are making a new foundation for build-
ing purposes. The piles ar^ driven down, stones fitted on
them and the whole of it covered with cement. We are
now in the Jewish Quarter, where there are seven thousand
of this wonderful race living entirely alone. They were
compelled to wear a uniform, until Napoleon's conquest,
when he liberated them from their thraldom, as he did so
' many thousands more. There are traces of the liberality of
this noble man in almost every quarter of Europe.

Wouldn't you think there would be a great many persons
drowned here, surrounded, as the city is, by water? Our

lis A Trip Abroad.

guide tells us that the average is only about twelve a year.
In 1877 there was quite a money panic and a large number
of persons failed in business. In consequence, there were
sixty deaths that year, about iBfty of which were suicidal —
a convenient place for such work ! Should like to take you
to the Academy of Fine Arts and give you a glimpse of
some of the principal works of Titian, RoUo, Dandria, Paul
Veronese, Vernini, Canova and others, but time forbids.
But I must tell you of a picture in St. Mark^s. It is called
"John baptizing Jesus," and represents the Saviour in the
water considerably above his waist.
We must call a bait at

THE PALACE OF THE DOGES.

Here one may see —

'^ Rooms of state
Where Kings have feasted, and the festal song
Rung through the fretted roof, cedar and gold J ^

We pass up the ** Golden Stairs," into the hall of the
Council of Ten, which had plenary power and used it to an
alarming extent. In 1454 this power was handed over to
the Inquisitors. They then had at their disposal the
treasury of the Ten, the dungeons, the cord, the sack, the
dagger, and the poison. Not only Venetians but all who
breathed her air were subject to their mandates.

Dr. Thwiug says : *' Sometimes a hint was given to the
stranger, if a man of mark, in these words, *The air of
Venice is unhealthy,' and he fled for life. A Genoese
painter talked with two Frenchmen, who were indiscreet in
their criticisms of the government. Spies heard and reported
the conversation. The next day the painter was summoned.
He was asked by the Inquisitors if he could recognize the
persons who talked with him the day before in a certain
church. He assured the ofiScers that his own words had
been only praise. A curtain was removed and he saw the
bodies of the two foreigners hanging from the ceiling. He

The Doges' Palace. 119

was dismissed with the ad dee to keep quiet and express no
opinion either way. A German merchant was hurried out
of his hotel one night, muffled in a cloak, and carried to an
underground apartment. The next day he was confined in
a room hung with black, lighted with one taper burning
before a crucifix. On a third day, an invisible Inquisitor
inquired his name, age and business; if he had heard an
abbe use certain expressions, and if he could recognize his
face if shown. A screen was then removed and a gibbet
was shown with the priest upon it. A French nobleman
was robbed in Venice and complained of the negligence of
the police. As he was leaving, his gondola was intercepted
by another, bearing the ominous red flag, and manned by
minions of a ruthless and mj^sterious power. ' Pass into
this boat!' Then followed short, rapid queries as to the
theft and his suspicions. * Would you know him again?'
'Undoubtedly.' The officer coolly lifted with his foot a
covering, and there lay the corpse with the green purse in
its pulseless grasp, containing the five hundred ducats un-
disturbed. The nobleman was ordered to take his gold,
leave, and never set foot again in a land the wisdom of
whose government he had dared to impeach. * * * *
" Enough of this. The day of reckoning came. Ezekiel's
prophecy against Tyre told the doom of this Queen of cities.
'Because thou hast said I sit in the midst' of the seas, thine
heart is lifted up because of thy riches. Every precious
stone was thy covering; thou has gotten gold and silver
into thy treasuries; by thy great wisdom and by thy traffic
thou hast increased thy riches. I will bring strangers;
they shall defile thy brightness.' One morning in May,
1797, twenty gun-boats and eighty thousand men appeared.
Bonaparte told the Venetian ambassadors, ' There shall be
no more Inquisition, no more Senate, and I will prove an-
other< Attila to Venice.' The arsenal was stripped; the
golden book burned, and a new inscription was put on the

120 A Trip Abroad.

volume in the lion's hand. The rights of man and of
civilization I' "

Here is the "Lion's Mouth," a little hole through which
accusations were put, to fall into the Council of Ten, so that
they might reach the hands of the Inquisitors. It was only
necessary for some one to write an anonymous letter,
accusing another (no matter what his rank and station
were,) of some fault found of the government, to insure his
execution, as above described. And I need not inform you
that malice led to the destruction of many an innocent vic-
tim. The paintings on the walls are remarkably handsome.

Among them we see one representing the Doge Veniere
asking Christ to give the Venetians the victory over the
Turks in 1571; the "Plague of Venice," and Tintoretto's
" Paradise," which required the labors of the artist seven
years. It is the largest picture in the world, eighty-four by
thirty-five feet, and contains one thousand and one hundred
faces I

Here is the Election Hall, where the Doges were elected.
There were forty-one senators who chose them, and their
term of office was for life. One hundred and twenty occu-
pied the presidential chair of the Republic, during its four^
teen hundred and forty years' existence, the last being in
1797. I must mention Palmer's " Last Judgment," which
graces the wall of this elegant hall, as well as the portraits
of all the Doges. Now we go into the private apartments,
where we find scientific implements of quite a variety of
descriptions, and among them a map of the world, made
forty years before America was discovered ! Of course it is
a crude looking afiair.

The Bridge op Sighs. 121

CHAPTER XVIL

THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS.

Now we stand in front of the original door which opens
upon the

BRIDGE OF SIGHS,

over which so many heavy feet and heavier hearts have
passed, to find, as Rogers says,

" That fatal closet at the foot, lurking for prey !
That deep descent leading to dripping vaults
Under the floor, where light and warmth were never !"

We enter the cold, dark, dreary, dismal passage, so dark
that not one ray of light has ever penetrated it, save the
glimmering glare of the candle, in the hand of the keeper
of the prison, or the executioner who led to the block the
trembling, shivering victim. What horrible feelings must
have filled the breasts of the poor unfortunates, as they trod
this gloomy way, knowing that they would never again
pass out into the glorious light of day ! Now we are- in the
prison !

Here is the cell in which the ill-fated Doge, Marino Fale-
rio, was incarcerated. His bed consisted of a granite slab,
(and so with all the rest,) with pillow of the same ; here is
the one in which the brown-robed and hooded monk ex-
piated his guilt. There is the very hole drilled in the floor,
through which the blood from the executioner's block
trickled down into the canal below, and here the " guilty
door through which the lumpish sack was carried out into
a boat and rowed away and drowned where it was death to
cast a net." And would you think it? Byron spent twenty-
four hours in here to see how nice it was!

Let us now ascend the Campanile of St. Mark's and take
a bird's-eye view of this "City of Palaces." The tower is

122 A Trip Abroad.

three hundred and fifty feet high and forty feet square.
The ascent is not by steps, as might be naturally expected,
but by an inclined plane, winding around from side to side.
When Napoleon was here, he rode on horseback to the top —
something that no one else has ever done. The view is
magnificent, charming. I will let Dr. Thwing tsll the tale:

"The Alps and Apennines fringe this vast, broad basin.
The Adige and the Po pour their waters into the gulf, as
the Meuse and the Rhine into the Zuyder Zee, making, in
both cases, wide saline marshes and island. Qn these por-
tions of the lagoon, Venice *lies like a swan's nest,' with her
white walls and palaces cradled in the wave.

"The eye ranges from the snows of Tyrol on the north,
to the far-off mountains of Istria on the east, and the Julian
Alps, which look down on Illyria and the land of the Turks.
Let Lynton tell the rest: ' The burning sunset turns all the
sky to opal, all the churches to pearl, all the sea to gold and
crimson. Every color gains an intensity and purity like to
nothing ever seen in northern climates. The distant moun-
tains glow like lines of lapis lazuli washed with gold ; the
islands are bowers of greenery springing from the bosom of
the purple waters. Great painted saffron and crimson sails
come out from the distance, looking in the sunlight like the
wings of some.gigantic tropical bird; flowers and glittering
ornaments hang at the mast head ; everywhere you hear
music and song, the plash of swift oars and the hum of
human voices ; everywhere you drink in the charm, the
subtle intoxication, the glory of this beloved queen among
the nations. And when the night has fairly come and the
world has sunk to rest, you lay your head on the pillow
with a smile, your last thought — lam in Venice! to-morrow
I shall see her beloved beauty again !' "

We leave Venice on the morning train for Milan. Pass-
ing Padua and Vicenza, we reach San Bonifacio, a short
distance to the south of which was fought the battle of
Areola, where Napoleon gained his earliest laurels from the

From Venice to Milan. 123

Austrians. The fields are all hedged in with rows of mul-
berry trees, the leaves of which are used for feeding the silk
worms. This is quite a silk-raising part of Europe.

Crossing the river Adige, we stop for a few moments at
Verona, famous for the scene of Shakspeare's " Romeo and
Juliet." Soon we reach Lake Garda, a beautiful sheet of
water, along whose edge a number of small villages and
towns cluster. Not far to the south is the battle-field of
Solferino. Farther on we cross the Po, which winds its
course through one of the most fertile plains in Europe,
while along the road are innumerable vineyards, whose
vines are gracefully festooned, converting the whole into
beautiful bowers. At four o^cloek P. M., we reach

MILAN.

What a contrast f The walls of the marble palaces of
Venice are hoary with age, and, in some places, covered
with moss and slime. Here they are almost as bright and
gay as in Paris; everything has quite a modern appearance.
After dinner at Hotel Grande Milan, (most of them have a
" Grande" attached to them ; sometimes it means but little,
and then again it means a grand fraud,) we walk out to
Gallery Victor Emmanuel. This is a largo public f>rome-
nade, where two of the principal streets intersect each other,
covered with glass and brilliantly illuminated at night. The
centre is composed of one huge dome many feet high. At
the base of the dome, and about fifty feet from the ground,
is a row of gas jets. About midway is a second row, and at
the top a third. The way of lighting them is decidedly novel.
There is a little track arranged around nearly on a level with
the lights. On this they place a little engine run by clock-
work. The gas is turned on all at once, a little torch is
attached to the engine on the side next the jets, it is wound
up and started off> and in one second the four hundred lights

124 A Trip Abroad.

are all blazing I Only the bottom row is lighted ordinarily,
the others being used only on .special occasions.

Now we will take an evening ride. Milan is circum-
scribed by a canal, as well as an elegant boulevard — one of
the handsomest in Europe. This latter furnishes a splendid
drive, is almost perfectl}' level, very broad, brilliantly illu-
minated and bordered with stately trees. Some miles from
the busy centre of the city we seethe Arch of Peace, founded
by Napoleon I., when he began to open the great Simplon
road, the grandest undertaking of the kind the world has
ever seen. Near by, you may see the military parade
grounds, and the Arena, or equestrial circus, built by Napo-
leon for the pleasure and amusement of the people. It is a
vast open amphitheatre that will accommodate thirty thou-
sand spectators. They have their exhibitions and races
here during the mild season, and being able to fill the bot-
tom with water, they also have boat races. In the winter,
they turn on the water and have an excellent place for
skating.

The accommodations at the hotel are as good as one could
wish. The waiters are as polite as a dandy and as attentive
as a beau. As we near the mountains, we encounter more
travellers and the hotels are better patronized. A good
night's rest prepares us for the heat and rambles of the day,
and we arise and go at it early. We have fallen in with a
young man from Brooklyn, who, while he says he has not
moral courage to drink water in Europe, is, nevertheless,
upon the whole, quite companionable.

First of all we must visit the

DUOMO, OR CATHEDRAL.

This is the third largest cathedral in Europe. Begun in
1386, it was gradually built from designs by Bramante,
Leonardo da Vinci and Giulio Eomano. It is of white
marble and the most elaborately carved piece of workman-

Milan Cathedhal.

125

ship I ever saw. Being fout hundred and eighty-five feet
long, one hundred and ninety-one broad, two hundred and
eighty-seven at the transepts, one hundred and fifty-three

-.--.-J

CATHEDRAL AT MILA?^.

high, with a spire five hundred feet high ; combining Gothic
and Roman architecture, and with two hundred and fifty
turrets, each crowned with a marble statue, it presents a
sight truly amazing and bewildering. I am not surprised

128 A Trip Abroad.

that it is called the " eighth wonder of the world." It is the
largest marble structure now known. The enormous roof,
with all its appendages, is supported by fifty two pillars fif*
teen feet in diameter ! But so large is the audience chamber
that they don't look to be more than four feet. There is a
strange looking line near the entrance which the sun
crosses at noon. The roof is most beautifully frescoed, and
so perfect is the representation, that it looks like actual open
work, or carving. On one side they have suspended from
the ceiling by long cords the tassels taken from the hats of
the dead cardinals. To the left is the cross carried by St.
Carlo (?) during the plague. Here, too, is the Baptistery, a
font of porphyry, taken from the baths of the Emperor
Maximian, or St. Dionysius! They immerse the candidates,
children and all! ! In the north transept is a candelabrum
presented to the Virgin by Trivulzio in 1562. To the right
of the altar is a statue of St, Bartholomew flayed alive, by
Marco Agrate, one of the most perfect pieces of sculpture
extant. The muscles, arteries and bleeding flesh are so
vividly depicted, that it is really painful to look at. In the
choir, to the right, is the Sacristy, where they keep their
sacred relics. Among these are the fingers of Peter and
Paul, a bone of Judas Iscariot, (black!) a handkerchief with
the impress of the Saviour's face, a part of the purple robe
and crown of thorns worn by Christ ! ! Just above, in a little
opening in the ceiling, several hundred feet from the floor,
is one of the nails of the crucifixion, kept up there for fear
of being stolen ! At stated times the Pope visits Milan and
holds high mass, when this nail is let down, suspended by a
cord, that the worshipers may see and touch it I Let me
again ask if such superstition is not enough to melt a heart
of stone, and convert the bitterest enemy to Foreign Mis-
sions, and induce us all to use every endeavor to hold up
the hands of the men of God who have gone as missionaries
to this benighted people? In one of the other churches

Milan Cathedral. 127

they have the brazen serpent which Moses lifted up in the
wilderness ! 1 1 This they also worship, I suppose.

Climbing up four hundred and ninety-four steps brings
us as high as it is possible for us to go on the spire, and we
stand about two hundred feet above the roof, "with its
forest of white marble pinnacles, the most beautiful roof-
scenery in the world." Each of the two hundred and fifty
turrets is crowned with a statue five feet high. Besides
these there are scores of smaller ones arranged on the sides
from top to bottom, — in all four thousand and five hundred !
The view defies description— wonderful, beautiful, grand,
beyond conception.

" 'Tls only In the land of fairy dreams,

Such marble temples rise, bright In the gleam
Of golden sunshine. Truth here now repeats

What fancy oft has pictured forth in sleep,
And gives substantial form to airy flights.

How bright! how beautiful! The turrets peep
In .snowy clouds, while statues crown their heights.

Oft does the night these towers in moonshine steep,
Stirring the soul to poetry's delights."

At your feet this magnificent city of two hundred and
seventy thousand inhabitants lies spread out like a wilder-
ness of palaces. Farther away, the fertile plains stretch
themselves, waving with golden, mellow harvests; in the
distance may be discerned the windings of the Po; the
horizon from the southwest to the northeast is fringed with
the frozen pinnacles of the snow-capped Alps, while the
placid waters of the lovely lakes, (Como and Maggiore,) lave
the feet of their craggy cliffs.

In 1848 the Austrians, who had captured this part of the
city, brought their cannons up as high as the fourth story
of the spire (about three hundred feet from the ground) to
drive the Milanese from their fortifications. The effort was
unavailing and they were soon dislodged. The spire is
crowned with a gilt statue of the Virgin which is twenty-
five feet high. It cost one million francs and was presented
by Napoleon I. from bis private funds. He had forty-eight

128 A Trip Abroad.

millions francs (nine million and six hundred thousand
dollars) expended on the church to complete it. Here
he, with Josephine, was crowned King of Italy.

Near the church of St. Maria delle Grazie is a small con-
vent, a part of which was used for a kitchen for some time.
In this apartment, frescoed on the wall, is the world-
renowned " Last Supper " of Leonardo da Vinci, represent-
ing the twelve just at the moment when Jesus said, "Verily,
I say unto you, one of you shall betray me." The expres-
sion on the faces of the apostles is so indicative of their sur-
prise, grief and excitement, as to render it well worthy of
the attention it has received. The decomposition of years
and the daubers have very greatly defaced it. In another
part of the city is an enormous theatre, not yet finished,
whose stage is sufficiently large to introduce five hundred
horses, they say/ It has a seating capacitj'^ of four thousand.

We take the afternoon train for Arona and arrive just in
time for dinner, 6:30 P.M. The hotel »!' Italic is nicely-
situated, overlooking Lake Maggiore, and only a few steps
from the water. While enjoying our repast, some delight-
ful music is heard at the window. This is something new.
How did these people find out so soon that we were here?
And what an honor it is to be thus recognized and
serenaded ! But how shall we respond to the compliment?
We cannot speak enough Italian. How I wish I had been
born smart! Ah ! the spell is broken ! Looking out to see
whence comes such melodious strains, we are accosted by a
swarthy Italian with one arm, turning a crank attached to
a hand-piano, who stops turning, snatches off his hat and
looks up pleadingly at us, at the same time exhibiting his
empty sleeve in such a way as to pull the strings of my
purse loose in spite of me. Some body has said that one
may walk from one end of Italy to the other on the palms
of the hands of beggars, and I am strongly inclined to be-
lieve it.

Thk Simplon Pass. 129

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SIMPLON PASS.

Thursday, July 29th, we leave Arona at 4:15 A. M. for
Brieg. The boat takes us up Lake Maggiore to Stresa,
where we find the " diligence " in waiting. As we sail quietly
up the placid lake, the king of day peeps in between the
frozen peaks of the snow-capped mountains, with beams of
dazzling light flashing from his fiery eyes, casting a beauti-
ful golden light upon the undisturbed bosom of the waters
below.

There is quite a party at Stresa ready for the departure of
the stage. We pack in and start. The route lies over the
famous Simplon Pass, rendered passable by the untiring
energies of Napoleon Bonaparte. The road is one of the
finest in Europe, almost as smooth as a floor, and very firm.
Along the way we meet numbers of poor women carrying
their burdens of fruit, wood, sticks, vegetables, etc., on their
backs, while the men stalk along by their sides, or in front
of them, apparently unconscious of their fatigue, and en-
tirely regardless of their suffering. There is a line of tele-
graph along the way, and the posts are solid shafts of
granite, twelve or fifteen feet long. Quite a number of quar-
ries is near by, and there are scores of men hammering
away on the stone. We cross the Ticino river occasionally,
for our way is just along its banks. The bridges are all of
granite. All along may be seen women washing their
clothes in the stream and drying them on the sand near its
banks.

The priests still make up a considerable part of the popu-
lation, and we meet them at almost every turn.

From Stresa to Brieg there are dozens of the little refuges
built by Napoleon for the safety and comfort of weary
travelers. Some of these have gone to nought and are now
9

130 A Trip Abroad.

in a state of dilapidation. Others are still kept open and
are of untold benefit to the poor pilgrims who frequent
this way, especially during the frightful storms in winter.
The way now becomes much steeper. The stream is con-
verted into a succession of surging, leaping, bounding cas-
cades, which rush madly through the rocky gorges, and
precipitate themselves into the foaming pools below. On
one side of us are the granite walls and craggy peaks which
lift themselves almost perpendicularly skyward, and robe
their hoary heads in mantles of snow. On the other side,
are frightful precipices and dark canons a hundred or a
thousand feet deep, while just beyond, the everlasting hills
rise in awful grandeur and bathe themselves in the sun's
golden light. Soon we are accosted by a line of custom
oflScers who inquire if we have any dutiable articles. A
shake of the head is sufficient to satisfy them, the diligence
passes on, and we are in

SWITZERLAND.

Up, up, up we go, the road so steep that the poor horses
can go only in a slow walk. The forest trees which cover
the lower slopes of the mountains are becoming scarce and
giving way to scrubby, dwarfish bushes. In some places it
is necessary to tunnel the rugged cliffs in order to make a
place for the road. In others, it winds back and forth, back
and forth, in a regular zigzag course, until a sufficient eleva-
tion is reached to pass over the top. Just here two streams
meet. One of them comes dashing down a declivity several
hundred feet and is beaten into a cloud of foam and spray.
The other comes bounding through a deep gorge which
roars like distant thunder, and then they both plunge
madly, furiously, wildly over a ^precipice and are lost in the
canon below. On the opposite side of the pass is an old
fort, built, perhaps, hundreds of years ago, to defend this
almost impassable gap. We become so tired of riding that
we jump out for a walk. Not far away is a bed of snow

The Simplon Pass. 131

which has broken loose from the glaciers above and slidden
down into one of the gorges — a small avalanche. I feel as
if I must have some of it, and so I run across the precipi-
tous ravine on an old rotten log, climb up to it and help
myself. Just think of eating snow the 29th day of July.

A few rods further, we come to a bridge. The sun has
passed the meridian, and the god of day is fast driving his
fiery steeds adown the western sky. A few yards below is a
cataract many feet high. The water rushes wildly over this
and the clouds of spray float gracefully oflf in the valley
below. The sunlight falls brightly upon them and there is
spread out before my wondering gaze, just at my feet, a
lovely rainbow. The verdant slopes, the rugged cliffs, the
craggy heights, the snowy pinnacles; the cloud-capped
peaks, the dancing cataract, the beautiful rainbow — every-
thing conspires to make this one of the grandest, most
magnificent, most sublime pictures it ever falls to the lot of
man to witness.

We are now approaching the region of perpetual snow.
There are no trees, but the whole face of nature, save the
rocks, is covered with a carpet of green, dotted with clover
blossoms, tiny blue bells, daisies and other wild flowers.
Little streamlets make their way down from the beds of
snow, like silver threads among the declivities; the lowing
herds wind slowly through the glens; the bleating flocks
dot the mountain sides, nipping the tender grass ; the sport-
ing kids skip gaily from crag to cliff, bafl9[ing the energies
of their keepers, while the joyous, happy song of the merry
haymakers, mingled with the melodious notes of the high-
land herdsmen and the chiming of a hundred bells, makes
the welkin ring and all nature seem vocal with praise.

Here is the little village of Simplon, from which the pass
takes its name, or vice versa. A dozen houses, or less, will
cover the number of residences. At almost every crook of
the road is to be seen a shrine, with a crucifix or an image
of the Virgin in it.

132

A Trip Abroad.

We are now nearing the top. Rich beds of blooming
moss, beautiful pinks and clusters of ferns environ the way.

SWISS GUIDES.

The crops of hay raised are wonderful — they grow nothing
else here — and the grass and wild flowers reach up to the very

The Simplon Pass. 133

edge of the snow-beds. The diligence is some distance be-
hind, and so we will amuse ourselves for a while in gather-
ing ferns and watching the movements of the fleecy clouds
above and the busy mass of animate nature below. Here is
the first house we have seen for several miles. From it issue
two priests and a woman, just starting out for a mountain
excursion, with their "Al pen-stocks" in hand. These stocks
are long staffs, from four to eight feet in length, with an
iron or steel ferrule sharpened, at one end, and sometimes a
hatchet or hook at the other, used to assist in climbing over
the glaciers. These glaciers are enormous beds of snow and
ice which accumulate in the elevated valleys and between the
•peaks, ten, twenty, a hundred feet deep I Almost every week
during the whole year there is some fall of snow or hail in
these high mountain regions. This, or a great deal of it,
slides down into the valleys between the peaks, and forms
such a frozen mass that it never all melts. Of course there is
a slight melting going on all the summer, which causes the
glaciers to move very slowly, even imperceptibly, downward.
All the warm season there are thousands of little streams is-
suing from these snow banks, which keep the larger streams
below constantly swollen. But the frequent fall of snow and
hail keeps the supply from being exhausted. Some of these
glaciers cover many acres, and, in some cases, even miles.
As they slide slowly downward, the lower edges break off
as they lose their support, and cause horrible avalanches,
not unfrequently destroying whole villages, and blocking up
the road for miles.

Here is the top I Just there is the head of the Po, a few
steps away the source of the Rhone. A public house crowns
the pass. Not a tree is anywhere to be seen — not even a
shrub. But at our feet is the carpet of velvet green, on
every side the snow-capped peaks, mingling with the fleecy
clouds which float gracefully among them, while over head
the clear blue sky spreads out, a lovely canopy. The coach-
man cracks his whip, the horses prick up their ears and

134 A Trip Abroad.

dash oflf at a frightful speed. Down I down I down we go !
into the valley of the Rhone, around sudden curves, near-
ing horrible precipices, almost brushing projecting cliflfs,
through tunnels, under and over bounding, raging cata-
racts which come rushing, foaming, dancing down the
rugged heights above and plunge into the terrible abysses a
thousand feet deep, only a few feet from the edge of the road.
The driver whips and halloos, the horses prance and run
almost at the top of their speed, the coach reels, rocks and
totters, as if it would upset at every curve I Frightened
and almost gasping for breath, w^e cling to the sides of the
diligence for safety. One feels like crying, " Hold I hold 1 1"
but it is of no avail, for the more one cries the more the-
driver whips, the faster the horses run, and the more immi-
nent the danger. For miles and miles we go at this i:^te,
with nothing above but the frowning crags, and nothing
below but the yawning chastas and the zigzag windings of
the road, which can be seen, in some places, for miles ahead.
The sun is down, night comes on, and still we go down,
down, down I ! We stop at only one place to change horses.
At last, about nine o'clock, a faint, glimmering light is seen
far below us. We wind round and round the rocky decliv-
ities, and finally reach Brieg, just in time to escape a heavy
rain.

From Brieg we go by rail, on the banks of the Rhone, to
Martigny. The stream is unusually swollen from the rain
last night, and the water has a peculiar color, rather yel-
low, I suppose, from the melting of the snow on the neigh-
boring mountains The cars are difiereut from any we
have seen in Europe, and are the only ones we find which
are so arranged that passengers may go from one to the
other. The mountains and hill^sides are covered with vine-
yards most of the way, but they are so steep that it is neces-
sary to put up rock walls every few feet, somewhat like ter-
races, so as to furnish sufficient level surface for cultivation.
Thus the whole landscape looks like a vast field of large

The Tetb Noire Pass. 135

shelves. Passiug Visp, Leuk, and a few other small vil-
lages, we reach Martigny at eleven o'clock, A. M. Here it is
necessary to leave the railroad again, in order to visit Cba^^
mouny, (French, Chamonix)- Our tickets call for mules, as
there is no road sufficiently broad to admit the passage of a
diligence. There is a very narrow driving way, but it is
exceedingly steep and dangerous. A few days before our
arrival, a vehicle was upset on one of the narrow passes, and
one or two persons hurled into eternity. The proprietor of
the hotel tells us it is necessary to have a guide. The guide
books contradict this, and we try to avoid it. But there is
no go — we must have one. We find him to be of no service
whatever, for he is behind us more than half the time, and
once or twice he is out of sight for a considerable time. — -
But I am anticipating- We call upon the master of cere-
monies for our mules. Pretty soon out they trot, but one
of them is a horse I Eager to mingle a little romance with
the trip, I insist upon my friend's taking the horse, as he is
a little larger than I am, for I really want to have it to say
that I rode a mule across the Alps.

CHAPTER XIX-

THAT OLD MULE.

It is a ride of nine hours from Martigny to Chamouny—
they calculate all distances in hours or minutes over here—
twenty-five or thirty miles, and our way lies through the
Tete Noire Pass. My friend's horse is a good sized animal,
my " critter " is only medium, but I judge her to be a pretty
fair traveler. We strap our valises up behind our saddles,
mount our steeds and oflf we go, up front street! Now here
is a picture for your imagination : Six feet two^ my feet

136 A Trip Abroad.

are dangling down among the mule's legs, while her ears
go flip, flop, flip, flop I My valise behind and my shawl-
strap, umbrella and sticks in front) give me somewhat the
appearance of a pedler. As we pass along, the people
throng the windows and doors. I don't examine closely
enough to see whether they are laughing, but they certainly
know how to gaze at one. I can feel them looking at me.
I try to keep pace with my companion, but my mule will
walk nowhere else except directly behind the horse. (Yoa
know a mule has a head of its own.) The horse walks
quite rapidly, and we have gone only a few steps before it
is perfectly evident that I am going to be left, unless I use
the lash. I have no spurs and it will not do to stop in the
town to get a whip. So I begin to kick and cluck. The
old thing's ears, it seems to me, are the longest I ever saw,
and the only response which comes to my clucking and
kicking is their continued flapping. By this time my
friend is several paces ahead of me and everybody is look-
ing at me. Again I cluck, kick and jerk, and finally induce
her dignified majesty to strike a trot. This ends much
sooner than it is begun, for she goes jig, jig, jig, jig, a few
steps, stops and seems to move even more slowly than be-
fore. This is repeated again and again until, finally, we get
out of town.

Combined with all the other disadvantages, her gait is the
most unpleasant of any animal I ever backed. She walks
like a measuring worm crawls, bowing up in the back, so
as to slide me back and forth several inches every step.
Soon we reach the ascent of the mountains. The way is so
steep that the saddles have to be fastened on before and be
hind, in addition to the girt. The road is like a snake's
trail, and when we have gone nearly two hours, we look
back and see the town, stream and valleys spread out at
our feet, and it really seems that it would almost be possible
to throw a stone down among them. The day is bright
and beautiful, but as we ascend higher and higher, fleecy

The Tetb Noibe Pass. 137

Kilotjds begin to rise and float gracefully oflF from the moun-
tain tops. There are little huts or stands along the way,
for every few hundred yards, where they keep wine and
beer for sale, and to refuse to patronize them is only to
<;hallenge a tawny maiden to walk along beside you almost
to the next stand, trying to beg you into it. As we near
the top, the clouds thicken and begin to assume a threaten-
ing appearance. The wind, too, comes surging over the
frozen cliffs. This is not very pleasant to one clad in sum-
mer vesture.

Soon we hear the muttering of distant thunder, and just
as we begin to descend into the Tete Noire Valley, the drops
of rain begin to fall. We hurry on, and the gait of my
mule becomes still more unbearable. The road lies at about
an angle of sixty degrees, and we have to lie down back-
wards on the animals to keep from plunging headlong over
their heads. To add to the unpleasantness of the position,
there is a frightful precipice not more than six feet away !
Just as we are passing one of the most dangerous-looking
places, my mule stumbles and comes near sending me head-
foremost over the rocks and crags below. She has assumed a
kind of weaving or ix>cking movement now, and my back
feeh as if it is about to break. The rain falls thicker and
faster, the clouds boil up in the western sky, the rolling
thunders approach, every thing is shrouded in darkness and
gloom. A bright flash of lightning and sudden clap of
thunder startle my old mule and she comes near jumping
from under me. And still the rain comes in torrents. We
hasten on a mile further and finally reach the Tete Noire
Hotel. Oh, what a crowd ! Wet and cold, we enter, order
dinner and refresh ourselves. As we sit at the table, the
clouds break away and float majestically oflf in the valley
below. The sun comes out in all its glory and smiles be-
nignantly upon the storm-drenched hills, and here we sit
taking our repast " above the clouds."

After dinner I conclude to walk, and so hand my mule

138 A Trii* Abroad.

over to the guide, and start off. Soon the clouds begin to
gather again. By this time we have reached a small stream,
a branch of the Rhone. This we ascend until we reach its
source. The rain falls so that we take shelter for a while
under an old shed near the road side. But the longer we
stay the worse it becomes. I conclude to try my mule again.
She gets behind every few steps, and I have to beat, jerk,
kick and cluck to get her to trot up with the horse. As we
go higher and higher up the stream, the trees disappear and
the peaks become more and more barren and desolate look-
ing. Finally we enter a broad vale which is swept by the
raging winds and beating rain, that come meeting us full
in the face.

The mountain tops all around us are white with snow,
and the gale feels like a rough December blast. My friend
leaves me. I jog along and catch up. Soon he is gone
again, and I must repeat the same process, time and again,
until patience is threadbare. I try to use my umbrella, but
the wind blows so as to render it almost totally useless.
But I cling to it the best I can. There stands one lone tree.
My friend, ahead as usual, rides up to it and halts to get
breath and a little shelter from the surging tempest. I jog
along, and, at last, come up to where he is standing. Just
as I am preparing to say " Woa!" my animal, as quick as
thought, changes ends, turns her head from the wind, (both
my hands being engaged in holding umbrella and shawl-
strap,) and away goes my umbrella, wrong side out ! ! Soak-
ing wet and shivering with cold, we trudge on. I can stand
it no longer 1 So I put the guide up again and take it on
foot.

We are now at the top. The wind still rages but the rain
has somewhat abated. We descend into the valley of the
Rhone. Just about sunset the clouds begin to break away,
the glittering surface of Mer de Glace presents itself just
beneath us, Mont Blanc, " the monarch of mountains," lifts
its towering head above the clouds, robed in its mantle of

The Tetk Noire Pass.

139

snowy whiteness, and bathes itself in the golden rays of the
setting sun, while the lovely " Vale of Chaniouny " spreads
out at our feet like an Eden of beauty. Wondering and
fixed with astonishment, I pause to gaze with rapture upon

THAT OLD MULE ! !

this scene so exquisitely beautiful. Passing one or two small
villages we reach Chamouny just about dark.

We have had a good many hearty laughs over this ex-
ploit since, but it was far from funny at the time.

140 A Trip Abroad.

CHAMOUNY.

After a splendid night's rest, we feel much refreshed.
But, oh my back ! Nearly every particle of sentiment was
knocked out of me yesterday by that old mule. And yet
there are such beautiful and grand scenes around that I
cannot pass over them in silence.

On one side is Mont Blanc, down whose rugged sides rush
Sve crystal streams, while the Arve and Arveiron have their
sources at the foot of the grand old mountain. Further
east you may see " Mer de Glace," and at your feet the sunny
vale spreads out in smiling loveliness. Of Mont Blanc
Coleridge beautifully singsj

" Awake, my soul ! not only passive praise
Thou owest ! not alone these swelling tears.
Mute thanks and secret ecstasy I Awake,
■ Voice of sweet song I Awake, my heart, awake I
Green vales and ley cliffs, all join my Hymn.
Thou first and chief, sole Sovereign of the Vale !
O struggling with the darkness all the night,
And visited all night by troops of stars,
Or when they climb the sky or when they sink:
Companion of the Momlng-Star at dawn,
Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn
Co-herald; wake, O wake, and utter praise!
Who sank thy sunless pillars deep in earth?
Who fiU'd thy countenance with rosy light?
Who made thee parent of perpetual streams?
And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely glad !
Who call'd you forth from night and utter death.
From dark and icy caverns call'd you forth,
Down those precipitous, black. Jagged rocks,
Forever shatter'd and the same forever?
Who gave you your invulnerable life,
Your strengrth, your speed, your fury, and your )oy.
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam ?
And who commanded (and the silence came),
Here let the billows stifi'en, and have rest?
Ye Icefallsl ye that from the mountain's brow
Adown enormous ravines slope amain—
Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice.
And stopp'd at once amid their maddest plunge !
Motionless torrents I Silent cataracts I
Who made yoo glorious as the Gates of Heaven
Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the Sun
Clothe you with rainbows? WTio, with liviag flowers
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet?

Mont Blanc. 141

God I let the torrents, like a shout of nations,

Answerl and let the ice-plains echo, God I

God ! Sing ye meadow-streams with gladsome voice,

Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds.

And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,

And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!

Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal l^ost!

Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest!

Ye eagles, playmates of the mountain storm!

Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds!

Ye signs and wonders of the element!

Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!"

One of the principal excursions from Chamouuy is the
ascent of Mont Blanc. It is sixteen thousand feet high, the
highest point in Europe. We prefer to make the ascent like
Mark Twain — by telescope/ — this is by far the quickest and
easiest way. There is quite a number of persons who are
silly enough to go up by the ordinary way, but we ask to be
excused. It costs only about a hundred and twenty dollars
to go and return. Besides, one runs a very great risk of
losing his life, by slipping off the glaciers and beds of ice
over which he must climb. The experience of one who
tried it is as follows; "I was exhausted; the weakness of
my legs had become excessive; my throat was nearly
choking; my head was almost bursting with pain, my eyes
smarting with inflammation, the reflection from the snow
burning and blistering my face."

The Alpine dogs, of which I have read so much, are quite
numerous, and they are huge, formidable looking fellows.
The honey, too, forms one of the attractions in the way of
edibles. It is excellent and plenteous beyond degree. The
principal articles of merchahdise are minerals, sold as sou-
venirs, Swiss wood-work carved, views, traveling articles,
perfumery, and such things.

From Chamouny to Geneva the only means of travel is
by the diligence, (stage), or privately. The way lies along
the Arve, the head waters of the Rhone. There are three
vehicles this morning, six liorses each, three abreast, with
twenty-five or thirty passengers each. There are several

142 A Trip Abroad.

others picked up as we go along. The road is very fine,
and at first very steep. The driver cracks his whip and oflf
we go. Being confined to the course of the stream, there
are some extremely abrupt curves. Around these we go in
a swift gallop, the wheels of the vehicles almost rising clear
of the ground on the " oflf side." How we shudder, as we
brush the very edges of the rugged cliflfs on one side and
yawning chasms on the other ! It is only sport for the coach-
man, who laughs heartily at our uneasiness and discomfort,
cracks his whip yet louder and louder and merrily halloos,
while the champing steeds rush wildly over narrow bridges,
through dreary gorges, between projecting cliflfs, into dark
tunnels and down precipitous declivities. Above, the tower-
ing pinnacles lift their hoary heads in awful grandeur, and
veil their faces in a mantle of snow; around our pathway
the verdant balsam and sombre firs struggle for existence
among the rocks of the craggy, granite walls; beneath us
the dancing cataracts and babbling brooklets mingle their
crystal waters, and hasten onward to lose themselves in the
bosom of old ocean, and beyond are stretched the smiling
valleys, laden with the fruits of a rich, mellow harvest. We
pass Ouches, St. Gervaix, Sallanches, St. Martin and Bonne-
ville, and about four o'clock P. M. reach Geneva.

CHAPTER XX.

GENEVA.

This beautiful city is situated at the foot of Lake Geneva,
"by the blue waters of the arrowy Rhone." Th^ popula-
tion is forty-ei^ht thousand, of whom twenty-six thousand
are protestants. What a perceptible change in almost
everything ! Begging is forbidden by law, and, I tell you,

At Geneva. 143

it is a relief to be thus protected. We stop at Hotel Na-
tionale, some distance from the noise of the busy part of the
city, and find it very pleasant, not only for its quiet, but also
for the beauty of its location. It is situated near the lake,
with a loVely flower garden in front, extending almost to
the edge of the water, upon whose placid bosom many
white sailed vessels float.

The food is well prepared and is served by waiters who
part their hair in the middle, wear swallow-tailed coats and
white gloves, — just like our American fops. Wonder if the
latter did not get their style of dress from some retired
Swiss or French waiter, while on a pleasure trip to America ?
You know there are some who bow in humble adoration
to, and would fain kiss the boots of, every foreign " Lord,^^
^^ Count " " Admiraly" "Baronet/* or " Duke*' who visits our
shores, not knowing whether the title be real or assumed,
aping all his fcLshions, and thus not unfrequently imitating
the abominable customs of European liverymen, jockeys,
donkey-drivers and boot-blacks! They call this ** aris-
tocracy " ! I

As the sun is sinking behind the western hills, we hear
beneath our window the harmonious strains of vocal and
instrumental music, which come floating in on the balmy
air. Looking out, to find the origin of such sweet melody,
we see three swarthy Italians, ^violins in hand and eyes
raised upward, making the welkin ring.

For a number of years John Calvin resided here, and was
head of the church as well as of the State. " He imposed a
discipline upon the people of the most extraordinary strict-
ness. His will was iron and his word was law. Geneva be-
came the headquarters of European Protestanism, and the
asylum of the persecuted elsewhere. Here Beza and John
Knox took refuge."' In 1798 Geneva was subjugated and
annexed to France. While here, we visit the Cathedral in
which Calvin preached. It has been very greatly enlarged
and beautified.

144 A Trip Abroai>.

Sunday morning, very early, Mr. Palmore awakes me to
see the beauties and grandeur of the sunrise. Ours is a
fifth story-room, and the window overlooks the lake. The
faint rays of the early dawn are slowly creeping up the
eastern sky; the stars, one by one, hide their faces in the
curtain of light which is spreading out from the distant
horizon ; Mont Blanc, fifty-five miles away, lifts his icy
head above the fleecy clouds, shakes his hoary locks in bold
defiance at the raging storm beneath, and bathes his frozen
face in the sea of glory that sparkles around his snow-white
bosom. The golden sunbeams are reflected upon the hazy
firmament, thus stretching out a canopy of burnished gold
above the rippling surface of the placid lake, whose limpid
waters are disturbed only by the gentle zephyrs of the quiet,
still morn. There is no sound of hoof, nor busy tread of
the restless throng. All is silent as death, and there is
nothing to disturb the reverie into which we naturally fall.
Methinks I 'can almost see, mirrowed in the calm blue
waters below, faint traces of the beauties of the celestial
world, and the snowy peaks of the far ofl" Alps, like angel
fingers, point us to the glories that await us there.

Soon a burst of thunder sound greets our ears. Again
and again it peals forth, and the echoes send back their an-
swer from the neighboring hills in the same awful tones.
What does it all mean? It is the signal for a boat race.
Ere long the once quiet streets are alive with the moving
mass of humanity which throngs them, and soon the shores
are lined with thousands of spectators, eager for the excit-
ing contest. All day (Sunday) the lake is spotted with ex-
cursion and row boats. About four o'clock in the after-
noon, there is an unusually large gathering and a good deal
of excitement manifested at one point in the lake. By
means of my field glass, I perceive that a small sail-boat has
been capsized.

We attend services at an American Episcopal church in

Through Switzerland. 145

the forenoon, the first exercises we have seen conducted in
English since leaving Paris, and what a treat

From Geneva, our way lies just along the edge of the
lake. The scenery is good, but not wild nor specially strik-
ing. The deep blue waters spread out beneath us on the one
side, and numerous vineyards cover the gentle declivities
on the other. The shores are thronged with numerous
towns and villages, the largest of which is Lausanne. Far-
ther on we come in sight of the Castle of Chillon, which
has been rendered famous by the pen of the historian and
poet. Here thousands of Jews were imprisoned and shot
in the dungeons, and in 1348 twelve hundred of these un-
fortunates were burned to death, " charged with conspiracy
to poison the public fountains of Europe." Here Prior
Bonivard was chained, for hostility to the Ducal sway, for
six years,

" Until his very steps have left a trace
Worn, as if the cold pavement were sod P*

Near this point the lake narrows down to almost a stream,
and the craggy mountains fence it in on every side. We
turn oflF by Fribourg, a few miles from which stands the
Lime-tree of Mor.at, now fourteen feet in circumference,
planted from the branch borne by a lad who ran breathless
from Morat with the glad tidings of the defeat of the enemy,
and fell dead in pronouncing the word " Victory !" This
we do not stop to see, but pass on to Berne, the capital of
Switzerland. Berne means "bears" and the place was
named from the founder having slain a bear here. We
stop only an hour or two and do not even visit the cele-
broted Clock-tower nor the Bear-pit.

After lunch we start for Thun. The country near Berne
is comparatively level, and splendid crops of small grain are
raised here. They are just harvesting, (August 2d) using
old-fashioned sickles. Behind the reapers goes a squad of
women and children who act as gleaners. They lose but
few grains. I am borne back in imagination to the days of
10

146 A Trip Abroad.

Ruth and Boaz. Soon the country becomes broken and tfe
begin to approach the Bernese Alps.

At Thuu, by mistake, we miss connection and have to lie
over nearly four hours. We put in the time pretty well,
however, and amuse ourselves in admiring the beauties of
the surrounding mountains, the lovely lake, and devouring
an enormous dinner at " Grande Hotel de Thune." Here,
as everywhere else we have been, quite a number of the
employees speak English. There was a time when a know-
ledge of the French language would carry one almost en-
tirely around the globe— certainly throughout all the coun-
tries in Europe— now the man who knows English is inde-
pendent, and can travel with comparative ease in nearly
every civilized nation under heaven. To one knowing
these facts, the recent prophecy of an eminent man, that, if
the world is ever Christianized and turned from the thral-
dom of heathenism and ignorance, it will be done by the
English-speaking people of earth, does not seem so improba-
ble. The language is now understood by quite a large pro-
portion of the inhabitants of both hemispheres, and is taught
in most of the institutions of learning throughout Europe.

At seven o'clock we take the steamer and sail up lake
Thun to Darligen, near its head, where we board the cars for

INTKRLAKEN,

and arrive at ten. We are so much fatigued by the day's
travel that we at once call for our rooms and retire for
the night. It has been raining nearly all the afternoon.
We hope it will be fair to-morrow. Alas, when we awake,
we find the face of nature still veiled in lowering clouds,
which ever and anon pour down copious showers upon our
defenceless heads. The neighboring mountain-tops, too,
are covered with fresh fallen snow which is occasionally
disclosed through the breaks in the clouds. I am so forcibly
reminded of Longfellow's "Rainy Day." Walking out in

Through Switzerland. 147

front of the hotel, we find something to attract our attention
for a while. The front yard is beautifully arranged and
studded with flowerpots, vases, lovely grottoes and rich
beds of dahlias, fuchsias, ferns, mignonette, geraniums, <&c.,
drooping their fragrant heads in mournful attitude beneath
the heavy rain-drops and making the passing breezes redo-
lent with sweet perfume. We try to make arrangements to
visit some of the principal resorts among the mountains,
but the rain forbids. We amuse ourselves for a while in
looking around at the curiosities in the stores, in the way
of ivory and wood carving — very handsome — views, travel-
ing articles and the like. As we stroll along it becomes a
little lighter, the sun peeps out and for a moment smiles
benignly upon the clear, white bosom of the " Jung-frau '»
(the young bride), an exquisitely handsome glacier, whose
bridal veil consists of a curtain of snow. This is doubly
beautified by the fleecy clouds that fringe its edges and float
gracefully off into the valley below.

Every train brings and ^carries scores of tourists. It is
estimated that thirty thousand travelers annually visit this
beautiful town "between the lakes ;" and should you judge
from the number of omnibuses in waiting at the> station,.
you would think yourself in some large city like New York
or Philadelphia. There is no chance to see much here, on
account of the bad wether, and so we will take the after-
train for

OIBSSBACH FALLS.

Going a few miles only, we reach the foot of Lake Brienz,.
where we take the steamer. As we glide smoothly on, the
rain ceases to fall, the weather changes its ast>ect, and there
is a prospect of better times coming. The lake is environed
by the mountains in either direction, from whose sides the
mist begins to rise and float off. At three o'clock P. M., the
boat calls a halt at the foot of an inclined railway, which
leads to the hotels (three or four in number) at Giessbacb

148 A Trip Abroad.

Falls. The cars are operated by means of a hydraulic
pressure, and are arranged one at either end of the track,
which is several hundred yards long, and lies at an angle
of about thirty-five degrees. They are connected together,
and when one starts up the other starts down, on the same
principle of two buckets in a well. They meet on half-way
ground, where the track, for a few feet only, is double.
They move very slowly and it takes several minutes to reach
*he top. Here, on a terrace or small table-land, about one
thousand feet above the surface of the lake, are the hotols,
which alone constitute the village, they being kept open
only during the summer, for the accommodation of trav-
elers. What a magnificent panorama opens upon our
vision, as we turn our enraptured eyes from the placid lake
beneath our feet, and the snow-mantled pinnacles beyond,
to the rushing, bounding cataract, which leaps furiously from
the craggy bosom of the grand old mountains, eight thou-
sand feet above, and plunges headlong, wildly, over seven
successive clifis, beating itself in,to a foaming mass, burying
itself in the rocky gorges, and finally losing itself in the
quiet waters, which lave the feet of the everlasting hills be-
low. Pen can but faintly depict the awful grandeur of the
scene, as we climb as near the top as possible, and catch a
glimpse of the last rays of the setting sun, which linger-
ingly hovers over the maddened stream.

The night is dark. About nine o'clock we are summoned
to the terrace outside to witness one of the grandest sights,
Vesuvius excepted, that our eyes have ever fallen upon.
Two men have been stationed at each of the seven falls, one
behind the water, the other in front, with a large reflector.
Each is furnished with the necessary chemicals to produce
three kinds of light — ^green, white and red. At a given
signal, all at once, every light is struck, and there emerges
from the impenetrable darkness a glory which I have not
language to portray. On this surging cataract, and upon
the rugged cliffs around^ bursts a dazzling light which an-

Through Switzerland. 149

folds a stream of emeralds, sparkling in the midnight gloom.
Slowly the color changes, and there is presented a succes-
sion of cataracts of glittering diamonds, as the white light
gleams brightly upon the dancing waters. Again there
comes a change, and the whole scene is clothed in garments
of red, while a stream of blood, mingled with liquid fire,
'courses down the dismal vale, in aspect not unlike the ter-
rors of the infernal regions. As we stand and gaze and
wonder and admire, the colors again change, and we have
a combination of them all, some white, some green, some
red, mingling and commingling in all their lovely tints
and hues, reminding us of the splendors of " the beautiful
beyond." One by one the lights disappear and finally the
whole valley is dark as night and still as death, saive the
continuous roar of the raging stream. But there goes up
from the scores of spectators a murmur of applause which
speaks in louder accents than empty words their apprecia-
tion and delight. This alone is worth a trip to Europe !
The balance of the evening is spent by most of the visitors
in drinking " and dancing. They have a good band of
music, which they keep all the season, just for the purpose.
The gentlemen and ladies (?) drink.

CHAPTER XXI.

Leaving Giessbach on the early morning boat, we reach
Brienz, at the head of the lake, in time to take the diligence
for Alpnach. Some one has well said that a Swiss diligence
is like Noah's Ark, " full of living creatures," with a dozen
or more on top generally. This we find to be a strictly true
picture. It falls to our lot to be thrown in the same com-
partment with an elderly lady and her son — the mother a
native of Paris, who many years ago moved to New York,

150 A Trip Abroad.

where she has since lived. They both speak English and
French fluently, and prove to be very agreeable companions.
It is wonderful how soon on^ can strike up an acquaintance
with perfect strangers. But there is a fraternal feeling that
springs up in my breast at the mere sight of an American.
The hours glide smoothly, pleasantly by as we begin the
ascent of the Briinig Pass, through which our way lies*
They call this the most highly educated and cultivated part
of the globe, but I tell you, we are far ahead of them in
some respects. Wliy, here the women have to do all the
drudgery and most of the labor on the farms, while the men
join the army or get positions as cooks and waiters at hotels.
Along the road, which is very solid and smooth, are
numerous little cottages, built mostly of logs — what we call
log cabins in America — and in some places considerable vil-
lages of the same, covered with boards or slabs, which are
not nailed on, but fastened down with stones the size of
your head and larger. Of course the roofs are considerably
flatter than ours are, or the stones would roll oflF. Should
think they had a lively time putting them back after storms
and hurricanes, if they have such things in this country-
The scenery is very fine, but not nearly so wild and pic-
turesque as that of the Simplon and Tete Noire passes. The
waterfalls are very numerous and some of them quite pretty.
Near the top of the Pass, which is three thousand and six
hundred feet high, is the Briinig hotel, where some of the
party take refreshments. The wild flowers are beautiful
and cover the clifis and the vales in lovely and variegated
carpets. As we descend we begin to meet the vehicles con-
veying tourists from Lucerne to Interlaken. There are
scores of them, and judging from their appearance, they are
from every nation and clime. Some one has given the fol-
lowing description of the

SWISS COSTUMES.

"Yost's pencil as well as his pen pictures the hardy

Through Switzerland. 151

mountaineer with belt and alpenstock, the shepherd with
his huge horn, the haymaker, and farmer with scythe and
pail, and the milkmaid with plaited petticoat and apron of

THE SWISS GUIDE'S SWEETHEART.

blue linen, her hair — not falling straight down over her
eyes, as is the idiotic style in some countries — but drawn
back from her shining brow, tied in light tresses and crowned
with a tasteful little velvet cap. Some peasant girls wear a
ficarlet bodice bordered with black, a jaunty waistcoat with-

152 A Tbip Abeoad.

out sleeve?) a short striped dress, and flowers in their hair
and hats. The out-door life and healthful exerjise of the
people promote lougevity. Yost tells of a Swiss village on
the Visp where there were several centenarians living at the
same time, one of whom begun his second century with a
third marriage and in due time had a son who was himself
married twenty years after."

The females often have long steel, nickle or silver chains,
which are kept very bright, fastened to their belts in fronts
extending to the tip of the shoulders^ where they are held
in a clasp of the same material^ and thence passing to the
middle of the belt behind. At a short distance they sparkle
like jewels in the sunlight, and help to make up quite a gay
costume.

We g6 down at the usual break-neck rate, and almost ere
we are aware of it, we reach the shores of Lake Lugern.
" The snow white Oberland Giants gaze down into its calm
loveliness over the barrier of the Briinig.'^ A few miles
further and we are dashing along the edge of Lake Sarnen,
which is four and a half miles long, and girt by mountains.
Near by is the town of Sarnen, where we spend an hour.
We amuse ourselves in visiting an old church which stands
not far off and by watching the people who pass along the
streets. We afford no less amusement to them, we presume,
from the way they gaze at us. As we are waiting, a large
company of school children come along bare headed and
bare-foot, except those that wear wooden shoes — not wooden
bottoms only, but tops and ail made of wood! — which keep
a noise on the stone pavements not very unlike the stamp-
ing of horses on the frozen ground. The women and girls
go out in the burning sunlight without any covering for
their faces or heads, and their complexion is very similar to
a cake of bees- wax.

Six miles further, and we are at Alpnach, a little town at
the southern extremity of Lake Lucerne. This lake is com-
posed of four arms, which extend from three to twenty

Through Switzbbland. 153

miles in length, and form a cross. At Alpnach you get a
view of the celebrated " Slide/' eight miles long, which was
used by Napoleon I. in running down the timber from
Mount Pilatus for dock-yards. "Six minutes sufficed for
the thundering descent." Here we take the boat. At a
narrow place in the arm of the lake is the bridge of
Archeregg, a draw bridge, and near by is an old tower^
built in 1309. Here stands the old town of Stansstad, which
resisted the French for some time in 1798, and in conse-
quence was sacked when captured. The grandeur and
beauty of the scene here stretching out before our enchanted
vision are not easily told. The sun is hiding behind the
barren summit of Pilate, and cast a last lingering look upon
the rippling bosom of the placid lake; the neighboring hill
tops still bask in the golden sunbeams; the craggy cliffs on
either side frown down upon us, while the snowy Titlis
raises his hoary head majestically in the back ground to the
height of nearly eleven thousand feet, and reflects in bur-
nished tints the effulgence of the glorious king of day.
Mount Pilatus (Pilate) received its name from the Roman
governor who delivered Christ up to be crucified. It is said
that the thought of this so tormented him, that he wandered
away from Gaul, his place of banishment, into the wilds of
the Alps, and finally ascended this mountain near the top
of which is a small lake, where he drowned himself. Some
say he stabbed himself. Passing around on the north side,
we enter the western arm of the lake, which brings us in
full view of •

LUCERNir.

Here we meet Cooke's grand annual excursion party from
America and Great Britain. There are more than fifty in
this division, and there is another following, with about as
many more. They have a business manager along who
looks after the luggage, (they don't know what baggage means
over here) rail road tickets, hotel bills, &c., and acts as inter-

154 A Tbit Abroad.

preter for them. We soon form several acquaintances and
feel quite at borne with so many English-speaking people.
As soon as dinner is served we start out to see. My friend
is nearly as fond of ladies' society as I am, and so it is not
long ere we are both ^'comerecU* You need not think I'm
going to tell you what we talk about. This much 1*11 ven-
ture — my friend soon gets a long way behind, and I — donH
care/ Walking along through a lovely park we find Thor-
waldsen's famous ** Lion of Lucerne," cut in solid rock
twenty-eight feet long and eighteen feet high. This is one
of the grandest specimens of sculpture of any age. It is
intended to commemorate the valor of the Swiss Guard who
died at their post in Paris, August 10, 1792, while defend-
ing Louis XVI. against a revolutionary mob. The lion is
defending in death agony the French coat-of-arms. The
collossal body extends across the shield, the broken spear
lies close by, the dart of the enemy pierces his mammoth
form, and the blood is streaming from the wound ; one of
the paws is stretched at full length, and the wonderful ex-
pression of almost human feeling in the face is '^ most pa-
thetically significant." Some one has said that " it would
be impressive even in a cathedral, but it is more so out of
doors in a sequestered nook, cut from the solid rock, with
trickling rills dripping from its mossy edges, and forming a
dark, crystal pool, in which the lion is reflected ; with seats
arranged before it, indicative of leisurely silent and careful
inspection."

Onljit a short distance from here is the " Glacier Garden,"
one of the most wonderful workshops of nature known.
The foundation is a bed of solid granite in which are to be
seen ten or a dozen glacier-mills, or huge holes worn in the
rock by the whirling of stones driven round by the moving,
melting ice. As these stones, some of them several feet in
diameter, were carried rounds they ground the holes in the
rock, and were polished themselves. One of these mills is
nine or ten feet deep, and as many in diameter. They some-

Through Switzerland. 155

what resemble the little eddies in the bottom of gullies.
This garden was all covered with the debris of the glaciers
until 1872, when the excavations began. Besides these,
there are large blocks of rock brought away from the Alps
and dropped here by the glaciers, furrows and scratches in
the rocks, which were made by the moving mass of ice.
" These debris date from the earliest epoch of the existence
of our globe, from the time when £ilmost the whole of Swit-
zerland, and a large part of the northern hemisphere were
buried under immense bodies of ice, with here and there an
oasis lying between, inhabited by animals extinct long ago."

We wander a few rods farther where we find a little ob-
servatory. This we ascend to get a view of the sunset
There is nothing to obstruct the vision, save a few frag-
ments of fleecy clouds, which flit across the lovely sky, and
these, with their silver linings and fringe of gold,- tend to
enhance rather than detract from the beauties of the sur-
roundings. The quiet waters of the lake and the sea of
houses lie spread out below ; around us the verdant park,
rendered merry by the sparkling fountains and laughing
brooklets, stretches out its arms to encircle us ; to the east we
see the grass-covered slopes of Rigi.; to the south old Pilate
lifts his desolate looking head, wearing his cap of mist
which betokens fair weather, while just beyond, the snow-
mantled Alps, in grand panorama, lie clothed in the bright
golden light which streams forth in unwonted eff'ulgence
upon their frozen cliffs. Soon the scene is changed. The
dazzling light of day gives place to twilight, and one by
one the little stars come out from their hiding places, and,
"peeping, smiling at each other," promise the speedy return
of another propitious day.

The " Covered Bridge," which crosses the lleuss at the
foot of the lake, was built in 1803. It contains more than
one hundred and fifty roof paintings, representing scenes in
Swiss history. In the middle of the bridge is an old Roman
Beacon-tower, (Lucerna), from which the city is said to have

156 A Trip Abroad.

derived, its name. Our hotel (the Swan) is close by. When
we retire at night, we are not a little perplexed at surround-
ings. As we are about to turn down the covering, we find
on the top of everything else a huge feather bed ! What
negligent servants, to announce a room in readiness for oc-
cupation without putting any covering on the bed ! I am
just about to ring the call bell, when the thought strikes me
that, as this is a strange country, perhaps they do things
strangely here. Any way, I mean to see into it, if possible.
Sure enough, on raising one corner of the tick, I find the
sheeiSj h]siuket9, &c.y on the bottom side / How is this? Do
people sleep " bottom side up" here, or what is the matter?
Oh, yes ; I get it now. They used to think that the earth
was flat and that " the sun do move." Since there has been
so much travel through these parts, they have heard that
the earth revolves. To prepare for the emergency, they
have reversed the order of things and put the bed on top,
so as to make the fall as easy as possible, when the turn
comes. This is satisfactory. But hold I As I get in, I am
buried in another bed of feathers! This completely frus-
trates my theory. Ah, now I have it. They don't raise
cotton over here, and so feathers are cheaper than bedquilts
and comforts, and therefore they sleep on and under them.
I tell you, they keep one warm enough.
As soon as we get breakfast, we make arrangements for the

ASCENT OF THE RIGI.

Taking the early boat, we sail several miles down the lake
to a little village, called Vitznau, at the foot of the inclined
railway, which takes travelers from this point to the Kiilm
(summit) several miles away. The little engine is placed
behind the car and pushes it, on the same plan, I am told,
as that used at Mt. Washington, in New Hampshire. The
ascent is so steep that an engine can take only one car.
There are several running back and forth all day. A good

Thbouqh Switzerland. 167

part of the way the track is double, but if any part of the
machinery should hapeen to break, a collision would be
unavoidable, unless it happened to be the lowest car. In
such a case there would be no such thing as escape. Ou
one side is the perpendicular mountain side ; on the other,
the craggy precipice. Between the rails is a line of grooves
in which the cogs of a small wheel under the engine work.
We go about as fast as one could walk. • Just before reach-
ing the top, which is five thousand nine hundred feet high,
there bursts suddenly upon our sight a scene whose beauties
are surpassed only by those witnessed when the summit is
reached. The lower slopes are covered with " the slender
beech or knarled chestnut.'' Near the top the trees disap-
pear, but the grass continues all the way, and the verdant
carpeting, thus spread out by Nature's God, is doubly beau-
tified by the blossoming clover, daisy and dandelion. " The
fantastic shapes and movements of clouds and shadows, col-
ored by the changing light, make a mosaic, as it were, of
the bosom of the lake below."

Here I stand on the Kiilm. The view from this point
defies description. Magnificent hotels dot the verdant slopes
and flowery dells to the very summit. The merry jingle of
the bells, which comes up in a hundred directions from the
legion of cattle grazing here and there, makes everything
seem joyous and full of life. The extent of vision embraces
a circumference of three hundred miles. In the northeast
lies the Black Forest in all of its gloom and sombre shades.
Hence, stretching entirely across the southern horizon, you
see the immense series of serried Alpine peaks, towering in
awful grandeur above the blooming meadows and rugged
chasms which spread themselves at their feet. In the south-
west, old Pilate lifts his barren oliSs high up in the etherial
regions and looks frowningly down upon the villages below.
To the west and north, and near the base of the Bigi, on all
sides, you witness a spectacle as diverse as it is possible to
imagine. Rich plains, mellow harvest-fields laden with

158 A Tbip Abroad.

ripe waving grain, crystal lakes, (sixteen in all), wild forests
and woodlands, several cities, white chapels, hamlets and
towns, are visible in every direction, presenting quite a con-
trast to the grand panorama of the frozen Alps towards the
south. Just under us, (for Rigi is almost perpendicular on
the north side,) lies Lake Zug, at the foot of which is a city
of the same name. On the placid waters float several little
boats, which look like straws at this distance. Only a short
distance away are to be seen the ruins of Qoldau, destroyed
in 1806 by a fatal land-slide, which was caused by an un-
usually long rainy spell.

At twelve o'clock, we bear an appalling sound, that rolls
past us and out through the valleys below, like muttering
thunder, and is echoed back from the mountains beyond.
Peal succeeds peal, until the whole earth seems to be filled
with the echo and, reverberation. We afterwards find this
to be the firing of the signal guns in the neighboring cities,
whose reports reach us at irregular intervals, varying in pro-
portion to their distances.

The sight of Kiissnacht, at the northern extremity of
Lake Lucerne, calls to mind the story of

WILLIAM TELL.

In 1307, while the Swiss were fretting under the Austrian
domination, Gessler, one of its " brief authorities,'* sought
to feel the pulse of the people by ordering them to do hom-
age to his hat. Tell refused. "Gessler seized his child,
and, wishing to see a sample of the father^s far-famed skill
with the cross-bow, commuted his punishment into the
carrying oflf of an apple from the head of the boy. To
avoid worse consequences, the fatal shot was taken — and
successfully j but the secretion of a second arrow being de*
tected. Tell boldly confessed that it was for Qessler's own
heart, had the other slain his child. Tell was then hurried
in chains into a bark for Gessler's stronghold at Kiissnacht

Through Swit^eblani^. 159

A tempest arose; Tell was freed to take the helm ; he leaped
ashore at Axenberg, on the lake, waylaid Gessler at Kuss-
nacht, and gave him that final evidence of his skill and
feeling, which, however wrong, car scarcely be regarded as
uncharacteristic of such an era and such anxieties." Tell's
Chapel stands at Altdorf, an old town further down on the
shore of the lake, and marks the spot where the hero leaped
ashore.

Quite a number of tourists go up and spend the night on
the top of Rigi so as to witness the glories of the rising and
setting sun. Some one has thus described his experience
on a trip of this kind :

"'Seven weary le&gttea up hill We sped.
The settling sun to see;;
SfiiUen and grim he went to bed—
Sullen and grim went we.

Klne sleepless hours of night we pass*(j(

The rising sun to see ;
Sullen and grim he rose again—

Smien and grim rose we."

Fearing this might be the way with us, we refrain from
the undertaking.

Leaving Lucerne on the 4 P. M. train^ we pass along by
Lake Zug, and reached Zurich about six o'clock. Here we
stop for the night. From our hotel we get a splendid view
of the lake (Zfirich) and the Alps, which rise majestically
at its head several miles away. Zurich is celebrated for its
silk and iron manufactories. Goods of this kind can be
bought here for abotit one-'half what they cost in America.
The only point of any special interest in the city is the
church in which Zwingle, the Reformer, used to preach.
He lived here for some time. Same of the English Reform^
ers took refuge here in the reign of Mary.

Our way now lies through quite a fertile section. The
ripe waving harvests greet us on every side, and the soil is
so well tilled as to make a very interesting appearance.
One hour'^s ride bringa us to Winterthur, and within a few

160 A Trip Abroad.

minutes more we are at Romanshorn, on the Swiss side of
Lake Constance. This is the largest lake in Switzerland, and
there is a good deal of merchandise borne upon its bosom to
the many towns which skirt its shores. We find a boat in
waiting, which takes us across to Lindau, on the Bavarian
side. It is only a few rods to the border land of Austria.
We do not stop, but press onward to Munich. Just before
the train starts, a party of three persons enters and takes the
opposite side of our compartment. It consists of a gentle-
man and two ladies. The man looks to be at least eighty-
five, is very much stooped, low, quite fleshy and has lost
several of his fingers, and I think, all of his teeth. His
wife is just the opposite, except in age; is tall, slender,
straight, bony, wrinkled and with but about four teeth, and
they at diflferent corners of her'molith. Her nose is some-
thing like three inches long, and her chin turns up, as if in
hourly expectation of a happy meeting. But with all this,
there is a manifestation of affectionate regard which I
have seldom seen exhibited, even among newly married
persons. Scarcely any words are spoken, but now and then
he puts his hand over and takes hers as lovingly as if they
were just beginning their " honeymoon." My friend sug-
gests that, perhaps, they have just been married, and are
starting on their bridal tour. Perhaps so; but even grant-
ing this, it is the strongest comment on connubial bliss
that my eyes have ever fallen upon. The second lady, I
presume, is a maiden daughter, in middle life.

The yield in the crops of small grain along the way is
simply enormous. They raise little except wheat and hay,
but they make these pay them well. The country is flat,
moist and unusually fertile. But the secret of success lies
in the pains they take in the cultivation.

In Bavabia. 161

CHAPTER XXII.

MUNICH.

We reach this city, the capital of Bavaria, just before
dark. It has one of the largest and finest railroad stations
in Europe. It is covered with glass, and extends over
several acres of land. This is one peculiarity of European
countries — they will have splendid depots. They invariably
call them stations^ and if you ask for the dq>ot, they do not
understand what you mean. They apply the term depot
simply to store-houses or ware-houses. At the hotel they
put us to sleep under the bed again, as they did also at
Zurich.

Munich (they spell it Miinchen, and pronounce it
Minch-n) is specially noted for its works of art. The mam-
moth equestrian statue of George Washington, which, I
think, stands in Central Park, New York, was molded here,
at the Royal Bronze Foundry. So was the celebrated Bava-
rian monument, which is sixty-five feet high, and stands on
a granite base thirty feet high. It weighs two thousand and
three hundred tons and is the largest woman I have met.
She stands with an anchor in one hand, near which crouches
a bronze lion, while in the other she holds a wreath of
leaves. There is a door- way through which you must go to
get up into the monument. The head is so large that eight
or ten grown persons can conveniently get into it and sit on
her jaw bones, and peep through her eyes as windows.
This is the largest piece of work of the kind in the world.
The wTists are more than six feet in circumference, and I
find it impossible to span the little finger with both hands.

The fruit all through this part of Europe is very, very
fine, especially the grapes. This we enjoy hugely. The
beer-gardens are getting to be pretty numerous, too. They
use this commodity here, pretty much as they do wine in
France.

11

162 A Trip Abroad.

From Munich to Murnau is fifty miles. From this place
to Ober-Ammergau it. is fifteen miles further, and you have
to go by private conveyance. We arise at 5 : 30 A. M. and
make our way to the train without breakfast. It is raining
pretty hard, and has been most of the night. But when we
get in sight of the ticket office, there is to be seen a line of
men, women and children, (which would extend a good part
of a hundred yards, if straightened,) of all sorts and sizes,
passing along in regular succession, purchasing their tickets.
They take millers' customs in this country, — first come, first
serve — and you must fall into line and take your turn, I care
not in how great a hurry. Finally, we secure our tickets
and make for the cars. They are packed full. We pass on
and on, until, it seems to me, we have reached the fiftieth
car. Here are a few vacant seats, and we jump in and take
ours. For nearly half an hour the throng continues to pass,
and I really believe there are as many .full cars ahead of us
as behind us. Here we go, at last ! At every station there
are numbers of persons in waiting. They crowd in, until
we are like herrings in a barrel — except that we have no
salt between us.

About eleven o'clock, we reach Murnau, the terminus of
the road. No breakfast yet ! There are hundredw of vehicles,
of every description, — wagons, some of them covered with
white cloth, carts, buggies, phaetons, ambulances, omni-
buses, carriages, etc.,— hoping to secure passengers for Ober-
Ammergau. Just across the waj'^ is a little restaurant where
we go to see what kind of a breakfast can be had. There is
such a rush that it is next to impossible to get inside. One
glimpse and a smell of what is within suffices for me. My
friend, however, avows that he is almost perished, and can-
not go any further without something to eat. He pushes in
and pretty soon returns with his hands full of bread and
half-raw stewed beef, while the grease and dirty water drop
down, as he ^^ goes for ^' it. Meanwhile I have secured pass-
age in an ambulance. I thought I knew what packing

Oiber-Ammergau. 163

meant befote, but give it up that I was mistaken. Sitting
live or six on each side, we are in such close contact (the
vehicle being very narrow) that one cannot move without
disturbing the whole party. There isn't one of the passen-
gers who can speak a word of English.

After going an hour or two, we come to a halt. Every-
body gets out, save my friend and myself. Upon inquiry, it
is found that we have reached a hill so long and steep that
the animals cannot pull their load up, and so all have to
walk. The mud is from one to six inches deep. The rain
is still falling. Men, women a,nd children go paddling on
tlirough it ^11, with a disregard tbat is amazing:. On, on,
•on we go, for more than a mile, and yet the top is not to be
«een. When we finally reach it, .the vehicle, oh, where is
it? Mr. Palmore concludes to wait for it, but I am so wet
^nd muddy already that I press on, in the midst of a
mingled multitude of priests, peasants and vehicles, and
reach •

OBER-AMMERGAU,

five mites away, before it overtakes me. A fortnight «,go,
we wrote to one of the managers of the renowned " Passion-
Play'' to procure us tickets and lodging. The next thing
in order is to find Herr Sebastian Zwink, the aforesaid gen-
tleman. This is only a small village, but the worst mixed
up place I ever visited. The houses are numbered, not ac-
cording to streets, but " ad libitum" There are really no
streets. The road runs through the midst of it, and then
little alleys branch off in every direction. So it is no easy
matter to find Sir Sebastian. At last we run upon a little
child who understands enough of my broken German to
know what we want, and conducts us to the long-looked-for
house. Out comes a long-haired, pug-nosed, red-faced man,
who says he is the identical Zwink. But he knows less
English than I do German, (and this isn't saying much for
his knowledge,) and so it takes a good while to get him to

164 A Trip Abroad.

understand what I mean. I inform him that I wrote him
two weeks ago for lodging and tickets, and ask him if he
has provided them for us. Taking out a little note book
and examining it closely, he shakes his head and answers,
" Nein," (No.) With this he walks off and leaves us stand-
ing in the hall. We follow. About this time, to our great
relief, some Englishmen, who understand German pretty
well, come to our assistance. They reiterate what we have
just told him, but his only reply is, " Nein I" and he again
walks off. Still pursuing him, we try to put our case pretty
strongly, tell him that we have depended upon him to get
us a room and tickets, and now we are without either. Our
pathetic appeal only draws from him the same response —
" Nein !" — and off he goes. Meanwhile quite a number of
persons have assembled around us, and they advise us to try
for ourselves to secure lodging first, and then see if we can
find any extra tickets to the Play. This we perceive to be
the most sensible course, as th,e little town has but twelve
hundred inhabitants, and there are six or eight thousand
persons who will have to find lodging in and around the
place to-night, in order to be in good time to-morrow.

The houses are small, two-story, wooden structures, built
of old fashioned hewn timber or logs. The windows con-
sist either of wooden shutters, or of very small sash, with
four panes of glass each, and open on hinges. There are
no fences, no yards, no side-walks. The houses open di-
rectly upon the streets, and in some cases you may ride
your horse (if you have one) in at the front door.

By this time the caravan of passengers from the train
and hundreds of peasants from the country have arrived.
*The whole town is alive with vehicles and animals of all
sorts and sizes — including bipeds. The rain is coming down
all the time, and you may imagine the condition of the
thoroughfares. We have not yet had breakfast and it is
' about 4 o'clock, P. M. I However, we start out in search of
a room. Beginning at the first house, we take them as we

Ober-Ammergau. 165

coma to them. At the first one we knock ; but there is no
response. We knock again, and still there is no one to
answer the call. Trying this again and again all in vain,
we finally conclude that we have found some more strange
people, who don't know what knocking means. So we just
go right in and inquire, " Haben sie noch ein, zimmer frei?'
(have you any spare room?) "Nein!" is the invariable
reply, until we begin to fear that they are all "riet'n," and so
we become willing to put up with a sofa or lounge. But
they have "n€m " sofa and "wcin" lounge. Worn out by
the travel, physically exhausted for want of food, wet and
cold from the falling rain, we are about to give up in de-
spair and seek shelter in some shed or barn, as hundreds
will have to do. Just then, as we are walking forlornly
away from a house, we detect a smiling face through a win-
dow on the opposite side of the Street. " Madame," quoth I,
^* haben sie noch ein zimmer frei?" "nein, mein herr," (No
sir,) says she; but gives us to understand that she can make
some kind of arrangement for us. We enter. In one corner
of the room is an old shriveled woman, bending over a churn
of cream, splashing away with all her might. In another,
is a huge iron box-looking thing, which I suppose is used
for drj'ing clothes, (for they have a great deal of damp
weather here.) Around the sides are wFde planks fitted into
the walls about two feet from the floor, which are used for
benches.

By means of what little of her language I understand,
and with the aid of her incoherent gesticulations, I find
that she proposes to make us bunks out of these rude benches,
with the addition of boards, chairs, mattresses, etc. Any-
thing for shelter and a place to rest! She soon has things
straight for my friend's " bed-place^' but when she takes my
dimensions, she finds it necessary to put a sack of shucks at
one end of my mattress to make it long enough. And even
with this, I have to lie diagonally across the bed and draw
up my feet to keep them from hanging over. But with all

166 A Trip Abkoaix

this, I never enjoyed a night's rest more, to say nothing of
the lunch taken before retiring.

All our efforts to get tickets to the Passion Play prove un-
availing, for the seats are engaged several weeks beforehand,
in most cases.

They have swne wonderfully strange vehicles here. They
are somewhat like our top-buggies or phs&tons, having but one
shaft or tongue, and yet they work only one horse to them.
He is hitched to one side, as if his match was- to be hitched
with hinx As lie goes along,, the tongiw goes flapping back
and forth every time the wheels run into a rough place,
thus slapping against the animal and causing him to fret a
good deal. They call them eins^panr^ers. Quite a number
of their wagons are worked in the san^e manner. In this-
way they make one horse pull six or eight persons.

THE PASSION PLAY*.

After a few hourls rest, we are awaked by tlie report of
guns, at 3 o'clock. A band af music marches through the
streets, and those who are tt> take a part in the sacred drama
are called forth to make the necessary preparations. At 4
o'^clock the large cathedral i& thrown open and the thousands
of visitors are invited to church services. Mass after mass
is said, until 6 o'clock, when high mass is celebrated for those
who are to engage in tlie play. While all this i& going on,
quite a different scene is transpiring in another part of the
village. About 5 o'^clock, two care-worn pilgrims crawl out
fram their rustic resting places and partake of a simple re-
past, prepared by the smiling German frau, which consists of
eggs, butter, rolls and coffee. My bill, for supper, lodgiag
and breakfast, is two mark and three pfennigs — about fifty-
five cents I This over, we start out in search of ticket& for
the Passion Play. The Berger-meister (mayor) positively
refuses to let us have any, because we did not write to him
instead of Mr. Zwink. We then begin to inquire of the

The Passion Play. 167

peasants we meet, hoping to find one who would be willing
to dispose of his, for a little advance upon it. This is
strictly forbidden by their regulations, and yet they fre-
quently do such things, (we afterwards find out.) On every
side are little fruit and confectionery stalls, whose keepers
we try to induce to sell us tickets. They only reply " Nein,"
and leave us in the same state of disappointment which we
enjoyed(?) to the full yesterday. My friend finally succeeds
in finding an old woman, who, by means of signs, (for he
does not know a word of German,) gets him to understand
that she will sell him a two-mark ticket for three marks.
This only makes me the more anxious. It would amuse
you to see (to say nothing of hearwg) me tell my plaintive
story; that I am from America, and have come a long way
to see their celebrated play. They tell me that, if I will
wait until to-morrow, it will be repeated, as there are several
hundreds, if not thousands, who cannot be accommodated
to-day. I tell them that my arrangements are already
made to leave this afternoon, and I cannot wait. My pa-
thetic tale finally prevails, and one of these stall-keepers
finds a man who will part with his ticket, and sends him to
me. I offer him an extra mark for his kindness, but he
positively refuses to accept it. So I thank him and depart.

There are thousands crowding around the gates, waiting
for them to open and admit them to the best seats. Among
them is an almost innumerable host of priests. When seven
o'clock arrives, the doors are thrown open, and for a good
part of an hour they are so eager to gain admittance, that
persons are almost picked up and carried along by the
throng.

As to the origin of the Passion-Play, it is based on super-
stition, as are most of the performances and ceremonies of
the Catholic religion. Soon after Germany embraced the
Catholic faith, the people acquired a dislike for the secular
drama then in vogue among them. Consequently they
took to the religious plays, as supplying the place of amuse-

IfiS A Trip Abroad.

roeut and spiritual instruction. This state of things con-
tinued until the Reformation, when they all passed into
disuse. However, in 1633, an alarming plague visited Ober-
Ammergau, and eighty-four persons in this small village
died of it in a month. At this the villagers, in their dis-
tress and anxiety, held a meeting, and, to appease the wrath
of God, " vowed to perform the Passion tragedy once in ten
years, if He would put a stop to the epidemic." The record
states that not another person died, though there were
several afflicted with the fell disease at the time of the vow.
The play, then, has been performed for more than two cen-
turies in this retired little mountain village. But it is
thought that the government will not permit it much
longer. As you are aware, an attempt has been made to
bring it to New York, but public sentiment is so strong
against it, that it will never, let us hope, be done, especially
as it is merely a money-making scheme of some atheistic
lucre seekers.

Here we sit, a good distance from the stage, which consists
of a large uncovered platform in front, the stage proper,
which is behind the curtain and under cover, a house on
either side, one Pilate's, the other that of Annas, the high
priest, while to the extreme right and left are two streets in
Jerusalem. The enclosure is of rough planks, just such as
might be expected in this retired place. The space for the
spectators, large enough to accommodate six thousand per-
sons, is arranged amphitheatrically, and only a third of it
is under cover, so that at least two thirds of the spectators
are exposed to the burning rays of the sun, or the less
pleasant showers of rain, which are so frequent in this
mountain region. When the curtain rises, it discloses the
back-ground, which is the neighboring mountain side, "and
to the eye which roams beyond the theatre, the country
presents the most beautiful scenery. To the right, gentle
hills which, with green slopes of velvet turf and dark woods,
gracefully rise behind the frontispiece of the middle stage.

The Passion Play. 169

To the left, bright green, rolling meadows expand, with here
and there a shed, and cows grazing in the distance, until
this sheet pf living green is hidden in deep and solemn
shade, by the dark pine-forest of the hills behind. The hills
themselves, towering up majestically on all sides, form the
last object between the gaily painted theatre and the deep
blue sky." The contrast between the deep repose of these
Bavarian Alps and the artificial representation of the streets
of Jerusalem is indeed striking.

Three cannon shots announce the beginning of the per-
formance. "The orchestral band strikes up, and 'the low
hum of the multitude gradually dies away." Soon the
Chorus, grave and stately, appears. It consists of seventeen
persons arrayed in the vesture of the days of Christ, with
crowns upon their heads. They sing appropriate pieces be-
tween the scenes, so as to prepare the mind of the spectator
for what is to follow, as well as to keep his thoughts engaged
during the interval. Each scene is preceded by tableaux,
representing incidents taken from the Old Testament, and
supposed to refer to, or symbolize, some partof the history of
the Saviour. The motionless attitude of those who take
part in the tableaux is really wonderful. Some of them are
very small children, and yet I see but one mistake during
the whole performance.

First, we have the expulsion of Adam and Eve from
Paradise, as a preparatory lesson, to show the need of the
suflferings of Jesus. The picture is a very vivid one, and
represents our first parents in their apl-ons of fig leaves, in
the attitude of fleeing, pursued by the angel with a flaming
sword. The tree of forbidden fruit is in the back ground,
with the serpent twining around it. As the curtain falls,
the Chorus assumes its position, and sings a hymn of thanks-
giving to God for giving His Son to take away the curse of
sin. Tke curtain again rises, the Chorus separates and
there is presented a cross, before which a number of figures
are bowing in humble adoration. The Chorus joins them

170 A Trip Abroad.

while singing. Then follows the first scene, the triumphal
entry into Jerusalem. Scores of children emerge from the
streets of Jerusalem, bearing palm -branches, and crying,
"Hosannah," etc. These are joined by men and women
who take up the glad refrain and echo back in thrilling
anthems, " Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the
Lord," etc., meanwhile spreading their garments and
branches of trees in the way, and bowing reverently before
the Son of David, who, by this time, comes out from one of
the side streets riding an ass, and accompanied by his
disciples, poorly clad and carrying their long staves. The
sensation which takes hold of me is indescribable, and, in
spite of myself, ray eyes are suffused with tears.

Then follow the most striking incidents in the life of
Christ, each preceded by its corresponding taxleaux, such
as the conspiracy against Joseph, (tableau,) the negotiations
of Judas with the Sanhedrim, young Tobias taking leave
of his mother, Christ parting with his friends, the last
supper, etc., etc , until it is twelve o'clock. Then there is
an intermission of one hour, «luring which utmost confusion
prevails — som^ going out to get lunch, others eating and
drinking in the theatre, and others still climbing over the
seats and creating disorder generally.

At one o'clock the exercises are resumed. Appropriate
tableaux precede the following scenes: The agony in
the garden, the betrayal, Christ before Annas, Caiaphas
and Pilate, and the remorse of Judas. I have never
seen anything so perfectly performed as this last scene.
The traitor is rather an old man and wears long beard
which has been dj^'ed, but hassince grown considerably,
thus showing the gray, and this adds to his haggard
appearance. With eyes flashing fire, and a countenance
that would rival the appearance of the fiends of perdition,
and features all distorted by grief, he seems to be haunted
by the furies of the infernal regions, wanders about like a
raving maniac, strikes upon his breast, casts the bag of

The Passion Play. 171

rattling coid dawn against the fioor, pulls out bis bair and
beard, tbrows oflF his outer garment, snatches the girdle
from about him, and chooses the fatal tree. For a little
while be stares at it with a wild, confused look ; then he
quickly runs up to it, begins to break off the lower limbs
and to climb, so as to execute the awful deed that is to
plunge him into the unfathomable abyss of the burning
lake. Just at this moment the curtain falls.

The agonj^ in the garden is almost as vividly depicted,.
The care-worn Christus takes the three favored disciples,
goes a short distance with them, leaves them to watch, and
passing a few steps further, falls kneeling on the earth.
Such plaintive tones! such anguish of soul! As he rises,
the bloody sweat is issuing from the pores of his skin, and
his face is spotted with the gore. He comes to his disciples,
returns and prays a second and a third time, until he seem^*
suffused with blood. It is an awful spectacle, and frequent
sobs and floods of tears from eyes unused to weep betray
the deep feeling in the vast assembly.

Being brought before the pompous, voluptuous Herod, he
is mocked, and the frivolous king demands of him some
display of bis power, in the way of jugglery, interpretation
of dreams and the working of miracles. Then follow the
mockery of the populace, the crown of thorns, the scourg-
ing and the mock robe. These scenes are extremely dis-
tressing and fill the breast of the spectator with thrilling
sensations. Next the choice between Christ and Barabbas
is taken, in the midst of a tumultuous throng, and soon the
innocent one is seen bearing his own cross to the " place of
a skull." Ho! he faints! he falls exhausted bei^ath the
heavy load, and Simon is forced to bear it to Golgotha.

The next scene discloses the bleeding Saviour nailed to
the tree, which is raised and rudely thrust into the hole pre-
pared for it. The malefactors are already suspended on
either side, and the railing, mocking multitude jpins them
in deriding him. Soon the weeping Marys appear, and the

172 A Trip Abroad.

loving disciple, wringing his hands, with tears of anguish
streaming down his cheeks. The thief repents, Mary is
commended to the care of John, the prayer is uttered for
the forgiveness of the enemies, he bows his head and " it is
finished !" We spectators, almost forgetting that we are
witnessing a mere performance, sit and stare as if petrified.
" Profound silence reigns, interrupted only by the convulsive
sobs and half suppressed sounds of weeping of many who
cannot help giving vent to the excess of their emotion.
But this awful stillness lasts only for a few moments.
Presently the ear is terrified by the rolling of thunder, and
the scene is veiled in darkness." The mockers skulk away,
and the priests are doubly bewildered at the report that the
veil of the temple is " rent in twain." The descent frora
the cross and the resurrection close the exercises of the day,
and it is now 5 o'clock P. M.

The inducements which prompt these people in perform-
ing this Passion Play have been attributed to pecuniary mo-
tives. However this may be, I am told that the performers
receive only a few marks each per week, the other going to
the priests. Judging from their earnestness and seriousness,
I should say that they do it purely as a matter of devotion
and worship. The mass of visitors, however, are evidently
governed by entirely dififereut feelings ; for in the midst of
the most solemn and heart-rending scenes, at a little interval,
you may see hundreds of bottles and jugs turned up in
every direction, plainly showing that they feel as much
reverence for king Alcohol as for the sacred Person the
actors are trying to represent.

#

From Munich to thb Rhine. 173

CHAPTER XXIII. •

FROM MUNICH TO THE RHINE. ,

Walking along the street yesterday, in search of tickets
and lodging, we chanced to light upon a grocery, or restau-
rant, in whose windows there was a considerable display of
cheese. Being very fond of the article, and having gone
all day without breakfast, we were about to enter, for the
purpose of making a purchase. Just before reaching the
door, however, we got a smell of it. Umph 1 Did you ever
smell any Limberger ? If you have'nt, you know what a
delightful odor guano has? Well, then, you understand it.
We didn't get any — didn't even go in I I don't like cheese
in Germany I

Walking is very popular in this section. Quite a num-
ber of persons walked from Murnau to Ober-Ammergau
yesterday — fifteen or sixteen miles. Why, then, can't we
walk back ? I move we try it. " All right," says my friend,
who measures full six-feet-two. Here we go like Colon and
Semi-colon, one behind the other. Starting soon after the
Play is over, we get ahead of the principal part of the foot
travelers. For seven or eight miles the string of vehicles
passes us in undiminished numbers. Some of those on foot,
too, who left before the closing scene, are overtaken. Hun-
dreds more are met going to O., anticipating a repetition of
the Passion Play to-morrow. We have gone eight or ten
miles when we become so much fatigued, that we conclude
to get into the first vehicle passing which has a vacant seat.
It is an ein-spanner covered with white canvas. It has
wooden springs and seats of rough boards. There are four
other persons aboard, three of them pretty stout Germans.
We reach Murnau just in time to take the train for Munich.
Packed full of all sorts, sizes, sex and qualities of people,
eating, drinking, smoking, laughing, swearing, and some

174 A Trip Abroad.

sleeping, we have a time of it, until we reach our destina-
tion, at 11 o'clock P. M. We find our hotel filled, almost to
overflowing, and for some time there is doubt about getting
lodging.

From Munich we start out for tho Rhine district. We
pass Augsberg and Ulra, so celebrated as one of the battle-
fields of Napoleon Bonapart. The country is pretty fair for
farming, but most noted for its yield of peat. Hundreds of
square acres are used exclusively for this purpose, and the
amount of fuel thus obtained is wonderful. It is cut out
somewhat in the form of bricks, piled up in large open
heaps to dry, and is almost as black as coal. This is about
their only fuel. They burn it to a considerable extent in
the engines. The country is almost as level as a floor, the
soil very dark and fertile, and the parts not used for peat
production are covered with tall grass or waving grain. At
Ulm, we cross the Danube river. Having heard so much of
the " beautiful blue Danube," we are not a little disappointed
at the muddy, sluggish, unsightly appearance of the stream.
But such is life. There is so much more in the poetry and
fiction of the age than in the reality. The beautiful cathe-
dral is visible from the railroad. Beyond is an old abbey
which marks the place where Marshal Ney gained his de-
cisive victory over the Austrians in 1805.

Further on, we pass through a most excellent farming
country. Enormous yields of wheat are being harvested
by the poor women, who do most of the drudgery in Ger-
many. There is also quite a number of poppy fields along
the way, from which they secure vast quantities of opium.
The hop fields are getting to be most numerous now, and
both sides of the road look like dense wildernesses of poles,
around which the hop- vines entwine themselves. They
grow to the height of fifteen or twenty feet. We are ap-
proaching Stuttgart, the capital of

Hkidklberg. 175

wurtemberg.

This city of ninety-two thousand inhabitants, is situated
on the banks of tlie Neckar. The neighboring hills are
covered with handsomely cultivated vineyards, from which
is made the celebrated Neckar wine. This little province
of Germany is said to have the best common school system
and the most highly educated population of any part of the
globe. Their brain culture tells, too; for of all parts of
Europe I have yet visited, none show so much taste and
perfection in the cultivation of their farms as I see in the
vicinity of Stuttgart. Even the vineyards are terraced with
brick and hav^ excellent steps arranged between the walls,
the country being pretty hilly. Farther along the way, the
land becomes much more level, and the crops are exceed-
ingly good. The principal products seem to be beets and
hops. From the former they make sugar, I suppose. Large
quantities of wheat and hay, a good many grapes, and quite
an amount of tobacco, are raised here. The wheat is espe-
cially fine, and the tobacco pretty fair.

About 3 : 30 P. M., we reach

HEIDELBERG,

which has a population of twenty thousand, and is beauti-
fully situated near the confluence of the Neckar and the
Rhine, in the Province of Baden. Of course we go to the
celebrated University. It was founded in 1386, and enjoys
the reputation of being one of the first institutions of learn-
ing in Europe. You would certainly never get such an im-
pression from the appearance of things. The buildings are
huge, plain, dilapidated, barn-looking establishments, which
remind me more of warehouses than anything else. I can-
not believe that this is the University. But my friend calls
to a passer-by, who assures us that this is the veritable place.
" Umph !" think we. Can this be Heidelberg University ?
" Ja," (yes.) Upon entering, we find a still more unsightly

176 A Trip Abroad.

spectacle. The walls are all defaced, the staircases almost
torn down, and the doors in a miserable state of repair. We
enter one of the lecture-rooms, to get a better view of the
inner workings. The only furniture is a set of rude benches
and desks, which are whittled and scratched all over, and
would better become an old country school-house. I have
been wondering whether our free school committees would
accept such furniture as a gift for their purposes. We notice
on a board a poster which shows they have a course in
theology, as well as law and the sciences.

But there is a sad thought that comes into my mind in
connection with the fame of this celebrated institution.
The moral character of a large majority of the students who
attend the University is left in a much worse condition than
the building which I have just described— worse than ruined.
This is natural from the circumstances attending their
course of instruction. The young men are separated into
societies, or clans, which do not mingle with each other— in
fact, scorn to recognize those of other clans, I am told — ^and
are distingushed by the color of their caps, one society wear-
ing white, another blue, and still another green, etc. The
members totally ignore those of different orders, unless they
can by some means insult them.

When a young man first enters the University, the others
make it a point to insult him. If the ordinary means will
not accomplish this end, they heap some very grave indig-
nity upon him. This is done to provoke a challenge for a
duel, and any one who will not resent the first attack is
looked upon with supreme contempt, and dubbed a "cow-
ard." The duels are usually fought with swords, the necks
of the duelist being bandaged and their eyes covered with
strong goggles, so as to prevent any serious harm, their laws
forbidding them to aim a blow at an assailant below tho
shoulders. As soon as one strikes blood, the victory is won,
the seconds interpose, the affair is at an eiid, and the deadly (?)

Heidelberg. 177

foes shake hands " across the bloody chasm^* and congratulate
each other upon the valor displayed.
' They pride themselves upon their wounds, which are gen-
erally upon the face, and the one who has most scars, received
in this butchery, stands highest on the roll of honor, and is
chief among them. Some of them have been known, says
my informant, when the cuts were healing, to tear them
open again with their fingers, so as to present fresh, bleed-
ing wounds to the approving gaze of the populace. A gen-
tleman tells me of an occurrence which took place here sev-
eral years ago. A young man from America having an
unusual amount of moral courage entered Heidelberg. Be-
ing well informed as to their abominable customs, he deter-
mined not to take offence at anything they might say or do.
They immediately began their attacks, but he manfully re-
sisted all their endeavors to provoke him to a challenge.
Finding that these failed, they taunted him with " coward I^'
He coolly informed them that he had had no occasion for
displaying his valor. Chagrined at their failure, they went
away in disgust. Finally, one of the leaders of the con-
temptible plot met him in company with a young lady.
He deliberately walked up and insulted her. Whereupon
the American challenged him. He gladly accepted, and,,
thinking him to be quite a coward and a poor marksman,,
selected pistols with which to fight.

The day arrived, the seconds were chosen, and they went
out upon the accustomed lawn. The usual crowd of spec-
tators thronged the scene. As they walked out, according
to their custom, the young German stepped forward to shake
hands before the engagement. The American stepped
back, withholding his hand, and assuring him that that
was not his business. He calmly repeated to him the
previous attempts he had made to insult him, and when
all these had been repelled he insulted the lady with.
whom he (the American) was walking. When this was
done, the decisive step was taken. " Now," said he, " I have
12

178 A Trip Abroad.

no hand to shake with you. When you could not insult
me, you assaulted my lady friend. I have come here to kill
you, and I propose to do so before leaving this ground."
The young man turned pale, trembled, and tried to laugh
it oflF; but, no ! They stepped off, and the first shot sent a
ball through the heart of the German. This put an end to
dueling for awhile, and, I think, the account states that the
young American never received another insult while there.
The authorities pretend to forbid such things, but their
laws are never enforced — in fact, they all go out to see them.
But, as you see, their dueling is like many other things of
which they are guilty — a mere sham.

Some may think this account overdrawn, but it is not.
I see the students driving about the streets, with their faces
all gashed, scarred and disfigured, paying far more atten-
tion to their marks of honor and their cigars than to their
text-books. This may be looked upon as an impertinent
attack upon this world- renowned institution, but I do not
mean it as such, and am simply stating facts, as given me
by a native German. Nor would I cast any unjust reflec-
tion upon the distinguished men who have gone out from
Heidelberg. They are such as just would be men, in spite of
surroundings. I attribute all this folly to the detestable
idea which prevails all over Europe — especially on the con-
tinent — that every man must be a soldier.

There are some of our countrymen who think that their
sons must go to school a year or more in Germany, before
their education is complete. And when they return, with
their minds all full of bigotry and infidelity, we call it sci-
ence, and fall down and lick their boots. I say, away with
such notions and such education from the face of the earth !
And this is said with due deference to some of our learned
men who have been educated here, and have made men of
themselves despite all adverse surroundings.

The most interesting spot in or around Heidelberg, out-
side of the University, is

Heidbxbero. 179

the castlk,

This impregnable fortress occupies a position three hun-
ilred feet above the city, and is such a fine ruin that it has
been well termed the " Alharabra of Germany." Its moss-
covered walls have suflFered severely from the "tooth of
time," and the clambering ivy but adds to the desolate ap-
pearance of the towering monarch of the Neckar. We make
our way through subterranean passes as " dark as Erebus,"
which the continual drippings from tho roofs keep damp
and slimy. The Gaza-like gates and tho huge doors swing
on the giant hinges which have supported them for centu-
ries past. The princely rooms once occupied by Elizabeth
Stuart, wife of Elector-Palatine Frederick V., are crumbling
beneath the weight of revolving years, and scarcely any
part of the mammoth structure is preserved from tho
ravages of old Tempus, save the Museum, which contains a
few local relics. Passing out upon the " Altan balcony," we
obtain a charming view of the city, the winding course of
the Neckar and tho neighboring hills, vales and waving
harvest fields.

The most wonderful of the relics is

THE TUN,

This is an enormous vessel in the shape of a hogshead.
It was made in 1751 and is larger than some houses. It
holds eight hundred hogsheads, fifty thousand gallons, or
three hundred thousand bottles. It is said to have been
filled with wine three times. What was the thing made
for? Now I cannot answer this^ but maybe, it was intended
for the wine of the Royal family, or to preserve life in case
of a siege. I did not think to ask those who built it — in
fact, I think they have removed to another country.

But there is one thing that I shall not soon forget. Look*
ing around at the walls of the aparbnent, I see what seems

180 A Trip Abroad.

to be a very old clock. A little wire projects from the bot-
tom of it. Seeing me scrutinizing it pretty closely, the
keeper informs me that this is a very old piece of ^^ diro-
nology" and that, if I will pull the wire, it will strike,
(Mother Eve never had any more curiosity, not even when
she bit that apple.) So up I walk, give the wire a little jerk
and — out jumps a long-tailed monkey, right into my facet
Would you think the impudent— er—er — what shall I call
him ?-— had the audacity to coolly say, " It is simply one of
the jester's tricks " ? I don't mean to pull any more wires
while I remain in Germany I

We take dinner at "Hotel deT Europe," where we meet
several persons who came over on the same vessel with us.
What a pleasure just to meet any one whom we have seen
before, in this far-off country 1 The grounds surrounding the
hotel are handsomely arranged. There are several fruit
trees of the choicest kind set out in different places, while
the space between is richly ornamented with rare flowers
and verdant slopes, among which sporting fountains play.

Crossing the Rhine at Mannheim, we make our way to

WORMS.

The place is very greatly reduced in size. Thera are now
but twelve thousand inhabitants, where there used to be
seventy thousand. Here Luther boldly defended his doc-
trines at the Diet held in 1521, when almost every one
thought he would be martyred for his Reformatory senti-
ments. Why here is the very church in which the Diet as-
sembled, and as I walk among its aisles, the bold words of
Luther, spoken in answer to the remonstrances of his friends
who feared his death, come echoing down through more
than three and a half centuries : *' I would go to Worms, if
there were as many devils there as tiles on the roofs of the
houses." What a thrill they awaken in my bosom, as I

Worms. ^ 181

tbink of the grand old hero, who bravely stared death in
the face for the sake of truth and right

How things have changed ! Close by this church now
stands one of the handsomest monuments ever erected in
honor of any Christian hero. Surrounded by a group of
eleven life-size figures — among them three females and two
sovereigns — the colossal statue of the great Reformer stands
high above them all, with Bible in hand, and the follow-
ing inscription marks the lofty pedestal:

** Hier stehe Ich,
Ich kann nicht anders,
Gott helfe mir ! Amen !"

** fiere I stand,
I can do no more,
Qod help me I AmenP'

Tradition informs us that Wm. Tyndale, the martyr,
<iompleted the first translation of the whole Bible into Eng-
lish in 1526, at Worms. The churches and most of the
houses are of red sand stone, quite a popular building material
in this section. The Castle at Heidelberg is of the same.
Getting a good night's rest at Hotel de TEurope, we are
prepared for the travels and sight-seeing of another day.

Irish potatoes seem to be a universal growth. Wherever
we go, we see vast quantities of them. The principal pro-
ducts are grapes and beets, and are very fine. About eight
o'clock we reach Mayence. The fortifications are well worth
the attention of the visitor, but we are in too much of a
hurry to give them much notice. Going on down to the
boat, my ^y-e is attracted by two mills, which are situated in
the middle of the river. They are anchored and float on
the surface of the water. The wheels are undershot and are
turned by the current, which is very swift. People have to
go to mill in boats.

182 A Trip Abroad^

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE STORIEI> RHINE.

At nine o'clock, we board the steamer, " Kaiser uiid Konig
Wilbelm,'' and prepare ourselves for the scenery along the
banks of the storied Rhine. I say '* stoned," because it is
more stoned than, perhaps, any other part of my trip. The
painter's brush and poet's pen have given such pictures of
fancy, as to make us think it like the bowers of Eden which
" showered down roses upon the sleeping lovers.'''

They tell us of

** The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom.
The forest's growth and Gothic walls between.
The wild rocks shaped as they had turrets beeo,
In mot^ery of man's art ; and these withal
A race of faces happy as the scene
Whose fertile bomities here extend to all,
Still springing o'er its banks, tho' empires, near theia faH.""

Many other, and as fanciful and farcical, portraitures
are given. But the reality of a visit very greatly modi-
fies these highly colored narratives. I should be very
greatly disappointed at the scenery, but for the meeting
of some one a few days ago who had just taken the
trip. This prepared me for it. I would advise one who
wishes to enjoy the Rhine to make this trip before visiting
Switzerland and the Alps. Oh, everything looks so tame t
True, there are beautiful slopes, rugged cliffs, rocky crags,
mouldering castles, now converted into picturesque resi-
dences for the aristocracy of Germany, and richly cultivated
vineyards, whose fruit is converted into wine for the palate
of princes and crowned heads ; but leaving out the ruins,
the castles and the splendid cultivation of the naturally at-
tractive declivities, the scenery along the Hudson River is
just as handsome ; nay more so. I see nothing to surpass

Down the Rhine. 183

the grandeur and beauty of the Palisades, the Adirondack
Heights, the lovely slopes and magnificent residences along
the Hudson. So, if you wish to make a cheap trip up the
Rhine, just take a day boat up the Hudson to Albany. But I
am anticipating.

There is nothing of very special interest until we reach

BINGKN ON THE RHINE.

Indeed, there isn't much here. It is a little town of six
thousand inhabitants, occupying a lovely site near the
stream. How my imagination had pictured "fair Bingen
on the Rhine!" But alas! Here is the little island on
which the " Mouse Tower" stands, where Bishop Hatto, the
hoarder of corn in time of famine, is said to have been de-
voured by the vermin his own granaries engendered. Im-
agine the scene ! But even the romance of all this is now
destroyed. Let me give you what Dr. Thwing says of Bin-
gen:—

" At the railway station I soberly asked a young man,
who seemed to be a resident, if he had ever heard of a sol-
dier of the Legion who once * lay dying at Algiers,' and
who made frequent mention of ' loved Bingen,* ' calm Bin-
gen,' * dear Bingen on the Rhine.' Strange to say, he could
not recall any circumstance of the kind, at least among the
young men of his acquaintance in the town, nor had be
ever heard of Mrs. Norton, or her grandfather, the brilliant
Sheridan. Foiled in this, I repressed my curiosity as to
Archbishop Hatto, formerly a retired clergyman in that
neighborhood, who once made a corner in grain and got
cornered himself in a small tower which I had just passed,
indeed was eaten up by mice, if Southey tells the truth."

Going down, we pass the " Seven Rocks, which represent
the seven beautiful, cruel Flirts, whose heart-breaking co-
quetries the siren Lurley.recompensed by converting them
into congenial stones." Young ladies, beware// I must

184 A Trip Abroad.

also mention the Liebenstein and Sternberg castles, built in
honor of two brothers who fell in love with the same lady.
" She accepted the younger. He left for the Crusades and
returned with a Greek bride. The elder, whose noble na-
ture had respected the rights of the absent, challenged him
for his perfidy. The fair betrayed reconciled the combat-
ants, and took the veil at Bornhofen Convent," further down
the stream.

At Coblenz, situated near the confluence of the Moselle
and the Rhine, is St. Castor's church, where the grand-
children of Charlemagne met in 843 to divide the empire.
At Ehrenbreitstein, the " Gibraltar of the Rhine," are the
famous and impregnable fortifications, which will contain
provisions for ten thousand men for ten years. Here is the
village of Weissenthurm, where the Romans are said to
have crossed the Rhine in the first century, and the French,
in 1797. Railroads run along both banks of the stream,
and it is ^ quite an interesting sight to watch the trains
plunging into, and emerging from, the numerous tunnels
which lie beside the river.

We now draw a halt at Bonn, the site of another of Ger-
many's universities. We do not stop to visit this, nor to
look into the birth-place of Beethoven. In fact, we don't
even take the time to see Kreutzberg church, about a mile
away, which is said to contain the stairs of Pilate's Judg-
ment Hall I We have witnessed wonders enough of this
kind.

COLOGNE.

This city of one hundred and thirty thousand inhabi-
tants, is located immediately upon the banks of the Rhine,
and is the point at which most travelers take the boat for
the best view of the scenery along this celebrated stream-
From this point down, the country is quite level and mo-
notonous, and there is nothing of special interest to tourists.

Cologne, like Milan, is celebrated for its splendid new

j Cologne. 185

I cathedral, which is said to be the finest in the world. It is
i not nearly so large as the one at Milan, but is indeed a

handsome piece of architecture. This is the first objective
point, and we wend our way thitherward, as soon as we can
divest ourselves of our luggage. We have gone only a short
distance, before we are fully convinced that this place has
the wrong name — Cologne. On every side, the filthy water
from the wash-tubs, the dye-pots, the bath-rooms, (if they
have such things,) the horse-stables and the manufactuting
establishments, almost thick with the offal and refuse from
the hotels, restaurants, beer saloons and vegetable and fruit
stalls, streams along the streets, and in some places we nearly
have to wade, in order to cross. You may imagine the
stench created by such a state of things. And yet they
call this Cologne! Did the place derive its name from the
perfumery manufactured here, or vice versa f " Vice versa" I
suppose, as we call it "jEcxu de Cologne," Of one thing I am
pretty well convinced — they cannot get much more from
this section ; for they have extracted all the sweetness from
the whole surrounding country now, and sent it off in the
form of perfumes, and there seems to be nothing left but
dregs. Their cologne is getting to be pretty weak, too.
Everybody has to buy some, of course. . To bein the fashion^
I purchase a large bottle, but when I leave and try it, be^
hold! — I get mine, too, where they say they have the
"original and only genuine" recipe for making it — the
pure " Johann Maria Farina." Am glad I didn't get any of
the lower grades — especially glad I didn't put any of it on
my handkerchief.

But we started out to the cathedral. It is not very diflBcult
to find, for the double spires tower far above every surround-
ing object, to the fabulous height of six hundred feet. It
was begun in 1283, and they say that it will be completed
next Saturday, after an interval of five hundred and ninety-
seven years, when all the scaffolding will be removed, and
its five thousand statues and statuettes — all on the outside

186 A Trip Abroad.

— will be presented to the wondering gaze of the astonished
thousands, who will be present to witness the wonderful
spectacle. Every little niche, corner and turret is crowned
with at least one piece of statuary, and they all together
present a bewildering picture. The paintings on the inside
are very handsome, and the stained-glass windows are
beautiful.

We next go around to St. Ursula*s church, with a hope of
seeing the eleven thousand and one skulls which empanel
its interior. These were taken from the heads of virgin
Missionaries, who were drfven up the Rhine by a storm in
company with the Saint. The Huns wished to marry them,
failing in which they martyred them ! But we are so late
that the doors are closed.

When we sit down to dinner, we find surroundings not
much more decent looking, comparatively speaking, than
what we have witnessed on the streets. But when one
travels all day and looks with both eyes, he feels as if he
can eat almost anything. The odors which greet our nasal
organs, as we make our way up to the topmost story at the
hotel, are anything else than pleasant. But, by holding our
noses, we manage to reach our room in safety.

We retire pretty early, but are soon aroused by the sound
of sweet music, which steals softly through the lattice of the
windows. As we look out upon the rolling waters of the
swelling stream which passes along nearly under our win-
dow, a lovely scene greets our vision. The opposite bank is
brilliantly illuminated with variegated gas lights, which
are partially reflected from the restless waters below, and
rivaled only by the beauties of the starlit firmament above.
These are the outskirts of the grounds surrounding a large
beer-garden, I understand — so much like the spider's web,
beautiful and attractive without, but entangling the unsus-
pecting victims who unfortunately come within its be-
witching portals and leading them into the jaws of utter
destruction. Alas I alas 1 1 How long shall we be cursed

Strange Things in Germany. 187

with these dens of perdition which issue forth streams of
palatable beverage that are converted into liquid fire, eat up
the vital parts of man's existence, gnaw at the heart-strings
of every benevolent sensation and engulf his immortality in
the lake " where their worm dieth not, and the fire is not
quenched"?

In the morning as we are passing down one of the prin-
cipal streets, we hear an unusual noise, as if some one were
in great distress. At the same time, there comes the sound
of wheels rattling over the stone pavement, and the barking
of a dog. We scarcely have time to look around and jump

out of the way, (for the streets are very narrow, and nearly
every body walks in the middle of them, except when
thronged with vehicles,) when we witness a novel spectacle.
We find that the noise proceeds from a woman, who comes
dashing down the street at the top of her speed, hitched be-
tween the shafts of a cart, with a dog that is harnessed to
the axle ! She is a fruit and vegetable vender, the cart is
well-nigh full, and she is crying aloud to attract purchasers.
This, we find, is only one among many, for this is their
principal mode of selling such things. Just to think of the
women of a country being reduced to such a state of degra-
dation I But this is not the worst of it.

188 A Trip Abroad.

Yesterday we met a native German, who has been living
in the United States for fifteen years, and who is now over
here with iiis wife, on a visit to his relatives. Being thor-
oughly acquainted with their language and speaking Eng-
lish as well, he is prepared to gain information which others
could not possibly. obtain. He told me that it was the cus-
tom all over this country for the women to do nearly or
quite all the hard work. The men must all join the army
for a certain number of years. The soldiers of this part of
Europe are even more numerous than the priests of Italy.
The little State of Belgium, about one-half as large as South
Carolina, keeps a standing army of forty-five thousand
men in time of peace, nearly twice as large as that of the
United States ; and, in time of war, it furnishes over one
hundred thousand men I The soldiers are the only ones,
outside of the aristocracy, that are looked upon with much
respect, and it would amuse you. to see how self-important a
corporal, or a third lieutenant, feels. The President of the
United States is ^' small potatoes" compared with him, judg-
ing from his appearance. These bloody men of Mars strut
about the streets in high boots, cocked-hats and white gloves,
with their swords and sabres dangling by their sides, scarcely-
deigning to turn a glance of recognition upon the plodding
sister or careworn mother, who may chance to fall into his
pathway, bearing the heavy burdens of life and laboring
hard to secure food for the " soldier boy" And let a strange
lady come in his way, and if she does not take good care of
herself and get out as quickly as possible, he pushes her out,
or runs against her — simply because she is a woman I

They use these beasts of burden (women) to unload their
railroad cars, and vessels as well. And during the season of
fertilization of the vineyards, you may see scores of women
trudging up the rugged slopes of the hills, with baskets of
dry, or buckets of liquid, manure on their heads I I am
told that, farther interior, the men hitch their wives to carts
with donkeys and make them pull enormous loads. I saw

Strange Things in Gj:rmany. 159

an American a few days ago, who told me that he witnessed
this appalling spectacle in Vienna. The women are abject
slaves to the men, and the men to the government. A man
does not dare find fault with the Emperor William, or any
department of the government. If he does, and " this come
to the Governor's ears," there is no persuading him, but the
poor victim is cast into prison. Furthermore, one cannot
even express his views of the " powers that be" through the
press, unless they comport with the wishes of His Royal
Highness. And if one of lower rank in society happens to
meet one of superior standing, he must tip his hat^ or he is
deemed guilty of a grave misdemeanor.

The German, of whom I spoke just now, told me of a con-
troversy he had with a portier at one of the hotels. He was
poking fun at the portier for taking off his hat and bowing
with such reverence to the aristocrats and men in authority^
who happened to be passing. The latter would not believe
the assertions of the former, that every man stood on the
same footing, to a certain extent, in the United States, and
that he would not think of bowing so humbly, even to the
President. About this time a carriage drove up. The portier
informed him that it contained the American Ambassador to
Constantinople, who was making his way through Europe
on business. The gentleman from the new world walked
up to the Ambassador, introduced himself, told him where
he was from^ conversed for some time, exchanged cards, the
officer apologized for being in a hurry to meet a certain
train, cordially shook hands and drove off, both politely
raising their hats. The portier stood by in utter amaze-
ment, and when the Ambassador was gone, didn't want to
believe that he was an officer in the employment of the
United States government.

Before the days of Napoleon Bonaparte, the middle and
lower classes of people in many parts of Europe were in a
most degraded and degrading state of slavery. The colored
people of the South never suffered siach bondage^ But the

180 A Trip Abroad.

principles of popular liberty, instilled into the minds of the
masses by this great benefactor of humanity, tended consid-
erably to elevate these abject slaves. There has never been
a temporal deliverer who has done so much for the amelio-
ration of the condition of the people of Europe, as Napoleon
Bonaparte. The benevolent institutions founded and plan-
ned by his wonderful genius dot the plains of the Old World,
from the burning sands of Africa to the frozen climes of the
North ; and I am not surprised that the people of the pres-
ent generation, notwithstanding the anathemas and re-
proaches hurled at the fallen hero by proud England and
the crowned heade of the Continent, rise up and call him
blessed.

Nor has all the servitude of the people passed away. My
German friend tells me of a man he met, while in the
neighborhood of his native home, who, with his wife and
six good-sized children, worked as tenants on the land of a
certain lord, for the paltry sum of one and a half marks per
day — about thirty-seven cents I — two grown persons and six
children large enough to labor on a farm, and earn thirty-
seven cents a day I

The same gentleman tells me of an exploit he took in
London. To convince himself that Germany was not the
only place of suffering, he employed a cabman and directed
him to drive to the poorest part of the city. The driver
hesitated for a while, but when he insisted, he drove off.
After passing through narrow streets, dirty alleys and among
a mass of filthy humanity for sometime, he finally paused
in what seemed to be the very midst of a pit of degradation
and misery. He was so powerfully wrought upon by the
sight of suffering and want, that he ordered the cabman to
drive away as rapidly as possible.

With all this degradation lying around their own hearth-
stones, these European aristocrats have the audacity to stig-
matize an American, whenever and wherever they find an

Strange Things in Germany. 191

opportunity, heaping upon us such epithets as " ignorant,"
*' vulgar," " rude," and such like.

The following is a synopsis of a conversation between two
Englishmen, which was overheard in the dining-room at a
hotel in Geneva. The two noblemen (?) were sitting at a table
on the opposite side of the room from a party of ladies. Said
one of the lords of creation, " Is that the Hon. Mrs. A. just
over there?" " Why, no I" retorted the other, with an air of
disgust and contempt, and a curl of the upper lip; "they
are nobody but Americans; and you \ino7f they never get into
society /" I simply mention this to show in what esteem we
poor brutes are held by the haughty nobles whom we so de-
light to honor when they favor us with a visit.

But this is long enough for me to keep you in Cologne.
So now we will strike across a tine farming country to

BRUSSELS,

the capital of Belgium, a city of two hundred and sixty-two
thousand inhabitants. The place was formerly noted for
the manufacture of the famous Brussels carpets, but now
they give more attention to the art of lace-making. We go
into one of these manufactories, expecting to find quite a
display of the mechanic arts. But lo I up on one side of a
small room, sit about a half dozen haggard looking women,
having on their laps large cushions stuck full of pins,
around and among which they are to»sing long spools of
thread, shaped somewhat like an old fashioned spinning-
stick. The pins are so arranged in the cushions as to form
the figures desired in the lace, and the threads are thrown
over each other in such a way as to plait, tie or braid them.
It takes them days, and sometimes weeks, to finish one de-
sign. No wonder Brussels lace is costly.

We next go around to " Hotel de Ville " or City Hall, in
one room of which the Duchess of Richmond's ball was held
in 1815, from which the " opening cannon's roar " called

192 A Trip Abroad.

the Iron Duke to Waterloo. The battle-field of Waterloo is
only twelve miles distant, but the weather is rather unfavor-
able, and we decide not to go out. We cannot see every-
thing this time.

We now go into the House of Parliament which is in ses-
sion. They use quills instead of steel or gold pens, and
wafers, in the place of mucilage, for sealing purposes. We
must pay to see the Royal Palace, the Museum, in fact
everything that we look at. Expect to be called on for a
few francs for walking through the park.

We will also take a ride around the boulevards. The
only means of travel is on the street cars. The cabmen
have entered into an agreement not to carry any one after a
certain hour in the afternoon. The city authorities have
put their tariffs down pretty low, and this is the way t)iey
take revenge. Brussels is very modern in appearance, and
makes one think he is in Paris. Most of the cities of Europe
seem to try to imitate the Parisian styles of architecture, aa
well as the fashions and customs of the gay metropolis.

Going some miles in a circular course, we come to a place
where two of these great thoroughfares cross. Here we see
illuminations and side shows, without number. Among
them is an anatomical establishment of wax'works. My
friend ventures in, but soon comes bolting out, almost as
pale ^s a corpse-^sick at the pictures o/ suflFering he has
witnessed. It is now getting late, and we wend our wearjr
way back to Hotel de Grande Mirror, where we get a
refreshing night's rest.

Very early in the morning we board the cars for another
port. We are nearing the coast again, and the wind-mills
are becoming quite numerous.

At Antwerp. 193

CHAPTER XXV.

ANTWERP.

Nearly all the inhabitants of Antwerp understand Eng-
lish. The national language is French. Until the Spanish
Inquisition, this was one of the principal commercial cities
of Europe, and had a population of two hundred thousand.
This bloody outrage drove many of its most prosperous
citizens away, and blockaded the waters of the Scheldt
Succeeding revolutions operated against its commerce, until
the number was greatly reduced, and it has only one hun-
dred and thirty -thousand at the present time.

Antwerp was the home of the celebrated Bubens, and
there is a very large and handsome collection of his paint-
ings in the Museum; We have the pleasure of a visit to his
home. Several specimens of his work are to be found here,,
but his most elaborate and world renowned pieces are in
the Cathedral, viz : " Descent from the Cross," his best
work, " Elevation of the Cross," " The Resurrection " and
"The Assumption." These are all admirable specimens of
art, and the first two are very vivid portrayals of the suffer-
ings of the Saviour.

There are some of the finest pieces of wood carving in
several of the churches to be found anywhere. The most
wonderful of these is the " Miraculous Draught of Fishes,"
a pulpit, representing the disciples (life-size, or nearly so,)
pulling at the net whose open meshes show the multitude
of the finny tribe taken. Even the twists in the cord are
plainly visible, and you can clearly see the scales, and.
almost imagine you observe their fluttering, so perfect is
the work.

Not far from the Cathedral is an old well which every-^
body visits, because of the romance connected with it. The
curb is all of wrought iron, and is the work of Quentin
13

194 A Trip Abroad.

Massys, a blacksmith, who became enamored of the daughter
of a painter, but the father refused to give his consent to the
marriage, because of his avocation. He exchanged the
anvil for the palette, soon distinguished himself as an artist,
in fact excelled the father of his lady-love, and won the
prize. He is said to have done much toward raising the
school of painting in Antwerp.

The Museum is a lovely place. The painter's brush and
palette have lavishly strewn bright jewels here, for there
was a time when Antwerp was a cradle of art and second
only to Florence. Here lived not only Rubens and Massys,
but also Van Dyck, Teniers, Jordaens, De Craeyer, Zegers,
Snyders and numerous others less distinguished. Their
richest productions adorn the walls of this ancient structure
tind call forth the admiration of the thousands of tourists
who annually visit its celebrated halls. But one becomes
satiated even with beauty. After seeing the thousands of
magnificent paintings in Paris, Versailles, Rome, Florence,
Naples and London, we feel that we have seen a suflSciency
of such things. And yet there is one small painting which,
above all others, impresses me. It is one of Massys' works,
called the "Head of Christ." It represents the head of
Jesus crowned with thorns, just after the scourging and
buflTeting. The whole face is covered with blood, the crown
of thorns still piercing his brow, and a look of utter ex-
haustion plays over his features. And yet the whole is a
perfect picture of meekness and resignation.

But the most interesting spectacle I witness in Antwerp
is the operation of an artist who has no bands. He was
born armless. As I walk around admiring the beautiful
works of art exhibited in the Museum, I am attracted by the
movements of a gentleman of strange form and stranger
dress, who comes in, takes a seat in front of a half-finished
portrait, kicks off his slippers and begins his manoeuvres.
He wears a kind of mitten on his feet, so that his toes are
free to act their part. It is quite warm, and he first takes

At Antwerp. 195

off his hat (a beaver), gets his handkerchief out of his pocket
and wipes the perspiration off his face as gracefully as if
he had two hands. Now he takes a very small key from
his vest pocket, I think, unlocks a small box containing his
palette, colors and brushes, opens it, raises a little bag by
one corner, shakes out the brushes, which fall upon the floor
and from which he makes his selections, and adjusts his
rest, which consists of a rod in three parts, connected to-
gether by metalic thimbles. Now he takes up the palette
with his left foot, sticks his great toe through the hole, wipes
his brush on a cloth held on the palette under his toe, mixes
fais paints and goes to work, with a grace and ease that
are amazing. He sits on a small round stool about eighteen
inches high, has both feet up at the same time, using them
just lik-e bands, and yet having no support for* his body.
And for all this, his '* pedipvJaiions^^ are as graceful as can
be imagined, — indeed if I did not know they were feet, I
I should say he had hands.

He is copying Rembrandt's " Saskia Uilenburg," the por-
trait of his first wife. He is just finishing the delicate col-
orings of the neck, and the whole is well executed. He
tells us that he was born in Antwerp, began to study the
art of painting at twenty eight years of age, and is now fifty.
He has a pleasant face and converses well in French and
English. He gives us both his card and a photograph of
himself. His name is James Felu.

Friday, August 13th, about 4 o'clock P. M., we bid fare-
well to the Continent and board the " Claud Hamilton " for
Harwich, England. Pretty soon the whistle blows, off we
go, and shortly the housetops and then the steeples begin
to fade from sight. For fifty miles or more we glide smoothly
along the placid waters of the Scheldt, whose quiet bosom
reflects the golden rays of the setting sun and duplicates
the fleecy clouds which float serenely through the azure
sky.

The waters begin to expand, the verdant banks and

196 - A Trip Abroad.

grassy slopes recede on either side, the " lowing herds ^ and
sporting flocks graze lazily in the distance and the far off
villages peep oiit from their green veils in the remote hori-
ZQD, while innumerable cottages sweetly repose on the soft
carpets of green spread by the hand of Omnipotence. Oh,
the thought of being sea-sick again I Who can keep back
the vivid pictures that will intrude themselves, like some
unwelcome visitant, as one contemplates recrossing the
Channel? What a pity that one must think of such things
in the midst of sucli beauties. As I came over the Atlantic^
I tried every antidote prescribed to vanquish the dread mon-
ster, but they all proved unavailing. I propose now to try
a stratagem of my own. So before we get out into rough
water, I find my berth, and am soon folded in the arms of
old Morpheus. The next thing I know I am in sight of
Harwich, without a vestige of sickness. How I wish one
could sleep all the way across the Atlantic! Wouldn^t it
save him a great deal of uneasiness f

Now comes another trouble. When the boat draws up to
the dock, there is a string of custom officers awaiting our
arrival, ready to plunge headlong into our trunks, valises,
&c. No sooner are we on shore than we are marched in,
singlefile, across a little bridge-looking gang-way, into the
custom house. There is no escape. Every valise, box,
trunk, and package must be opened. It matters not what
pretty tale you tell them, nor how nicely you have your
baggage arranged, they mil see tfw bottom piece. It is a strong
temptation to want to strike such head-strong specimens of
humanity, but we desist, seeing so many of them, and fear-
ing that the others might feel slighted unless they were
treated in the same way. Besides, we do not wish to get
them into trouble. Just see how they strew things I Here
go my panls, coat, vest, and — but I will not enter into de-
tails. They take out everything — even my bottle — of co-
logne.

This done, we make our way to the cars which are in

Back in England. 197

waiting. Soon they are in motion, and we are moving to-
ward London, at the rate of about forty miles an hour, Th^
■engines over here are queer looking machines. They are
rather small and are without ploughs 6t **cow-catchers," re-
tninding one very much of sand-crabs, as they can run as
well backward as forward. There is no need of the "cow-
catchers" since a man is indicted if his cattle are found
on the railroad. Quite the opposite with us. But they
do a good many things backwards in Europe — I mean
we do.

Now we are passing through one of the most interesting
parts of England. Rich fields of mellow, ripening grain
wave luxuriantly above the soil where once the Romans,
the Goths, the Vandals, the Saxons and the Britons pitched
their bloody battles. The farmers frequently plough up
some of the remains of their crude implements of destruc-
tion, as well as fragments of the vessels used for cooking
purposes, in their semi- barbarous state, that have lain buried
here for many centuries.

Here is Colchester, still surrounded by a wall built by the
Romans hundreds of years ago. This looks like bringing
Italy to England. How I wish we had the time to spend a
week here and examine the old castle, which is nearly twice
as large as the Tower of London.

We are now entering the suburbs of the great metropolis
again. The sea of houses spreads along our way for miles,
and finally we stop at the Great Eastern Railroad station.
It is about ten miles to our boarding house, and so we take
the under-ground railway train and are soon landed at
" Charing Cross" station, two minutes' walk from our hotel.
What a relief to be again where one can speak in his native
tongue and be undf^rstood by everybody. Why, just to
think, the little boys along the streets understand us ; the
policemen understand us; the cabmen understand us; the
restaurant keepers understand us, and even the servants
can understand us perfectly well. And we can converse

198 A Trip Abroad.

with anybody, ** just as easy !'^ Why, I feel as if I am in
fairy land, so delightful is the change.

And this is not the only pleasant part of it. I find some
letters awaiting me — the first news from home since I left
the shores of America. There is no chance' to learn any-
thing about our great countr}^^ from the papers of Europe.
Why, the people know more about Australia than they do
of the great American Republic, judging from the space
given each in the columns of the newspapers. Bnt for the
" thrashing " that George Washington gave Lord Cornwallis,
and the fact that Canada is tacked on to one edge of our
grand country, I suppose they would completely ignore us.
This reminds me. Let me give you a picture of the aris-
tocracy of this country, as I have already spoken of the la-
boring classes :

We will suppose ourselves on Oxford or Queen street.
Here comes a phaeton, dashing by us, drawn by a span of
splendid bays. In front are the driver and livery-man, both
dressed alijfe, and somewhat as follows: high beaver hat,
generally white, with broad black band ; light colored gloves,
extending nearly to the elbows; long, yellow boots, with
pants stuck in the legs ; bufi" or black pants, and coat to
correspond, the breast of which is almost covered with bright,
dazzling brass buttons. The livery man sits with his arms
folded across his breast, and they both seem to have swal-
lowed a poker with the crook turned back, neither of them
deigning to even glance one way or the other. On the seats
just behind them sit the elite of London — two or more gen-
tlemen or ladies, (generally the latter, sometimes both,) with
from one to a half dozen lap dogs. These have fancy collars
or brilliant bands of ribbon around their necks, and sit with
their heads perched over the edge of the vehicle, a part of
them looking out on each side, and occasionally kissing
their owners. They drive up to a fashionable dressing es-
tablishment and stop, the livery-man dismounts, tips his
hat, opens the door and steps back, bowing until he forms

Back in England. 199

a semi-circle of himself. The ladies step out, (they generally
have to wait upon themselves, even though there be gentle-
men (?) in the same carriage,) gather up their " trails" in
one arm and their dogs in the other, and " put for " the door.
I don't wish to follow them any farther. If you want to see
any more, you must go alone.

That is one turn out ; here is another. A gentleman or
lady desires to take a ride alone. This time he or she sits
in front — only one seat — driving two horses, one hitched
directly l)efore the other, and, I think, between the same
traces, or an extension of the same. In this case there is a
little box seat behind for the liveryman, and he sits there
with the same air of self-importance which he manifested
in the other case ; in fact, he looks as if he owns one-half
of England. Now, to tell the truth, I am at a loss to decide
which is the lord and which the servant, until I make some
inquiries upon the subject ; being rather inclined to think
that the latter is the gentleman, judging from his restful
and dignified attitude.

These are the ways they ride. Sometimes they walk,
though not often. We common people ride in cabs or om-
nibuses, because it is cheaper, preferring a seat on top of
the " buss," so that we can see as we pass along. The aris-
tocrats never ride in this way, except when forced to it by a
shower of rain, or something of the kind. One day we are
caught out in a shower. One of these favorites of fortune
is in the same condition. He has his dog with him — most
of them have. The omnibus being full, he has to climb up
on the top. He gathers up his pet, gets up and takes a seat
with us. It is really a treat to get so near one of the strange
creatures, they are such curiosities. But when he starts
down, he picks up his dog, and is kissed and licked by it,
right in the face, several times before he reaches the pave-
ment.

There goes a lady. She has her dog, too. Coming to a
street-crossing, she stoops down and picks him up, and

200 A Trip Abroad.

strides across. It will never do to leave "Pug" on the
ground. He might get run over, and oh, what a misfortune I
Now, don't think that they have lap-dogs in England only ;
this would be a mistake. They have them all over Europe,
and the further you go the more dogs you meet. They think
more of their dogs than they do of their wives and children.
They allow their children to play on the streets and in the
public gardens with other children, and their wives to go
out alone, even at night, to the beer gardens and places of
amusement, but their dogs — never f I am so glad that I was
not born an aristocrat in Europe, to be licked by the dogs,
neglected and ruined by my parents and forsaken by God.

CHAPTER XXVI.

BACK IN ENGLAND.

For one thing at least, I shall be glad when I get back to
America. Somehow, I have always been fond of eating, and
the better the food, the better it pleases me. But I have gotten
into such a habit of it, that it is impossible for me to re-
frain from eating. If this had not been so, life would have
been extinct ere this, for I think they can get up some of
the oddest excuses for food over here that it is possible to
conceive of. In some places they eat mushrooms, snails,
frogs, terrapins, mussels, and, I expect, cats, rats, horses and
donkeys. Maybe they have fed us on some of these dainty
dishes — can't tell ; for they have a way of covering every-
thing with a kind of dough and converting it into a pie, so
that we don't know which is kitten and which is frog. One
thing I know ; if I have to eat this bread much longer, my
teeth will be worn out. Almost as lief be chewing a piece
of India-rubber, except for the taste. They eat but little

Back in England. 201

bread over here, and I am not surprised, since Fve tried it.
What they have looks somewhat as if it had been made
shortly after the French Revolution. The loaves are round,
about three inches in diameter, and from one to three feet
long.

Let me tell you of a lunch we had fixed up one day, as
we were going over the mountains. The bundle was of
pretty good size, and so we did not examine it before start-
ing. Two other Americans were going the same way, and
when we took down our package, we invited them to par-
take with us. When we opened it — behold ! there was
about as much bread in it as could be made into a common
sized biscuit, and about a dozen slizes of tough ham, (expect
it was donkey), and half cooked beef, with the blood run-
ning out of it. This is the way they eat their meat. You
remember I said they didn't eat much bread. Well, ac-
tually, I don't think I have seen a piece of fresh, warm
bread since I left North Carolina. Wish I had a biscuit.
Am tempted to adopt Mark Twain's course, and make out a
bill of fare and send it home to be ready, warm and smok-
ing when I arrive.

There is one other thing of which I must speak— the
cabs. They are about the strangest vehicles in creation.
Most of them have only two wheels, are pulled by one
horse, are covered with stiff wooden frames that are never
put down, and have little folding doors in front, to be closed
in case of rain or cold weather,. which extend from the foot
nearly as high as the chin. The driver's seat is up behind
and nearly on a level with the top of the cab, while the
reins pass over the covering and above the heads of the per-
sons inside. Each driver has a long whip, and he knows
how to use it.

Sunday morning we go around to Mr. Spurgeon's Sunday
school. I have spoken of their work in a previous chapter,
and will not repeat here. Later we enter the prayer- meet-
ing, that mighty fulcrum on which Mr. Spurgeon's lever of

202 A Trip Abroad.

power operates with such telling results. Mr. Spurgeon has
just returned from a two weeks' vacation and seems very
much rested.

At night — or rather in the afternoon, for they have
preaching at 6:30 o'clock, when the sun is up and shining
— I attend services at Dr. Newman Hall's church. Dr. Hall
is the celebrated Congregationalist, and is very popular in
London. In fact, his fame has spread until it has reached
the shores of distant lands. Nor is it undeserved, for he is
indeed a fine preacher. He reads the account of Elisha and
the Shunemite, as an opening exercise, and preaches from
Mark ix: 24, "Lord, I believe; help thou mine unbelief."
And it is a most excellent effort. Have heard but very few
sermons that surpassed it, both as a literary production and
a soul-inspiring discourse. But there are one or two things
lacking to make Dr. Hall's church a perfect success. Not-
withstanding the silent prayer which the minister called
upon the congregation to engage in just before the sermon,
and which is very unusual in the churches generally, yet
there is a stiffness and a formality in everything that
freezes one and dries up the fountain of one s feelings. They
use the ritualistic ceremonies of the church of England, and
keep us rising, kneeling, sitting, bowing most of the time.
But the worst feature of it all is the conduct of theassistant
pastor, who reads the prayers and leads in the exercises.
While the people are kneeling and mumbling their
responses, he is kneeling on an elevation in the choir. And
as the listless multitude throng the doors, in the midst of
his pretended prayers, he is watching them, looking first at
one doer and then at the other. Perhaps you say, if I were
praying as I should be, I would not see all this. Yes, that
is true; but how can one pray in such confusion, and when
the minister himself is simply repeating, in a sing-song
way, what some priest or bishop wrote centuries ago, and
the choir, joined by the people, are chanting their monoto-
nous " Amens"? They even sing their prayers.

A Visit to thb Prison. 208

I cannot refrain from drawing a comparison between the
exercises as conducted here and those at Mr. Spurgeon's
tabernacle. The church here is not nearly so larg;e, al-
though it cost sixty thousand pounds sterling, three hun-
dred thousand dollars. And yet it is not more than two-
thirds filled. On the contrary^ the tabernacle is crowded to
overflowing at every service, while hundreds go away
unable to find even standing room.

There is one thing which I have noticed over here, some
in England, but more on the Continent, especially in Ger-
many and France. A well-bred German or Frenchman
never thinks of entering a railroad car or taking a seat at a
table without first speaking to every one who notices his
presence. And when he arises to leave, the polite bow in-
variably follows.

A visit to the prison.

Mr. Palmore, my friend, is chaplain of the State prison at
JeflTerson City, Missouri, and is anxious to visit some of
the prisons in London. He consequentl}'^ obtains permis-
sion — he must have a written permit from the general
superintendent, or he cannot gain admittance — and we go
around. Would like to tell you how we are carried from
room to room, from place to place, how many persons we
have to see and report to, and in how many books we have
to register our names, before we are shown around. This
abominable red tapef

It is a very large brick structure, well guarded and with
every precaution for safety taken. The building is all in
one, and the wings radiate from a grand centre and connect
with other wings forming a kind of polyhedron. There are
eight hundred inmates, six hundred males and two hundred
females. Among them I see one negro. The prisoners are
separated and kept so. Those old in crime and hardened in
he ways of vice are not allowed to associate with those of

204 A Trip Abroad.

more tender years. I am told that the result of this separa-
tion is most happy. Nearly all of them do their work
locked up in their respective cells.

They have two chapels where they assemble for worship.
A Catholic priest, as well as a regular chaplain, is employed
by the State to conduct services. Besides this, they have
three teachers, who spend two hours a day one day in the
week, and whose duty it is to give the ignorant ones a plain
English education. The guard informs me that the results
are quite satisfactory, many of the prisoners learning to read
and write by this means.

There is also a library from which books are distributed
to those who can read. They used to have a system of pun-
ishments for those who were fractions, more especially
among the military convicts. They were required to turn
huge, heavy cranks, which had registers to indicate the
number of revolutions, and they were required to turn them
twelve or fourteen thousand times a day. If this muscular
force had been properly applied, it might have been made
to accomplish much good. Here are some of the cranks
now, and they are so heavy that I can with diflBculty turn
them.

It takes all kinds of people, and a good many of them, to
constitute a world. As I am going down the Strand about
dusk, I am accosted by a young man who walks beside me
for some distance before I pay him much attention. After
trying in various ways to attract me, and failing in all, he
finally speaks to me. I merely reply and pass on. He fol-
lows and tries to enlist my interest in a conversation. He
says that he is from America, lives a few miles west of Chi-
cago, and is in London in the interest of some large grain
establishment. He tells me how lonely he feels, and how
delighted he is to meet a fellow-countryman. He next asks
me about a certain theatre in the neighborhood, of which
he has heard. I tell him that I know nothing of it, as I
never go to such places. He makes a few more such thrusts,

Dorb'9 Gallbtrt. 206

and I tell him that I believe I will walk back toward to-
ward my hotel, as I am pretty tired. So we part.

As I walk around a block and come back upon the Strand,
I am met by another man who serves me quite like the
first. I thought before that he was a " sharper/' and now I
am fully convinced of it. So I immediately turn back and
bid him good evening. The next day I am telling a friend
of my experience, and partially describe the appearance of
one of these parties, speaking of my apprehensions. He in-
forms me that I am quite right, for a man answering to the
description led him into a drinking and gambling saloon
only a few days before, under the pretence of taking a glas&
of beer. As soon as he found out the trap, he arose and
left, and thus escaped a fleecing, if not death. What a for-
tunate boy I am, in suspecting the villains so soon and thus
getting rid of being robbed. Many an unsuspecting youth
is by this means led off, and, in some cases, never heard of
again.

On Wednesday, we make a short visit to

dore's gallery.

Mr. Dore was born in Paris, and resided there quite a
number of years. But his handsome collection of paintings
has, within the last few years, been transferred to London^
where they are kept on exhibition. It does not consist of a
large number — perhaps fifty would cover them all — but
they are among the most superbly fine specimens of art of
modern times* They haven't the course appearance of
Ruben's works, nor the high coloring of Massy's and Michael
Angelo's, but represent a class peculiar to the artist, and are
very vivid and life-like, some of the figures seeming almost
to be moving. And they are so large. " Christ's Entry into
Jerusalem" is on canvass twenty by thirty feet, and exhibits
about two hundred faces and forms. The Saviour is, of
course, the central figjure, and is excellently portrayed, a»

206 A Trip Abroad.

he glides through the streets of the Holy City, on the foal of
an ass, whila the Roman women and the Sandedrim stand
close by and look spitefully on.

" The Ascension" is another admirable one, not so large,
but as artistically conceived. Another side of the large hall
is covered by still a larger one, representing Jesus leaving
the Prsetorium (judgment hall), wearing the crown of thorns
and the mock robe, while the rugged cross awaits him at the
foot of the steps. This latter was three years in painting, and
lay unfinished and folded in the city of Paris during.the
Franco-Prussian war. ** The massacre of the Innocents,"
and the " Christian Martyrs," too, are especially fine. The
latter is unusually graphic. It represents the Roman am-
phitheatre at night, after one of the bloody contests of the
followers of the lowly Nazarene with the wild beasts. The
pale moon hangs high in the heavens, and casts a white
light upon the faces of the slain, while the ferocious animals
prowl lazily over the bodies, satisfying their hunger with
human gore. The scene is awful !

But by far the most striking painting of its size, is the
" Dream of Pilate's Wife." The Bible, you know, has left
us without any knowledge as to the nature of the dream —
it simply states that she had " suffered many things con-
cerning this man." The artist, however, has drawn a truly
wonderful picture. He represents Claudia Procula, as she
awakes from her slumbers, standing near her couch, with
one hand on her head and the other distended, as if in great
alarm, and an angel from behind whispering in her ear-
The yellow light of a burning lamp in the chamber adds
solemnity and gloom to the appearance of everything. Just
outside the door is Mr. Dore's conception of the dream.
Christ stands in the midst of an innumerable throng of
martyrs, prophets, priests and kings, " who have washed
their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb,"
while at his feet lies the rugged cross of persecution. These
myriads of saved ones, out of every nation under heaven >

Dore's Gallery. 207

are standing around, gazing with rapture upon the Lord of
their salvation, and " ten thousand times ten thousand, and
thousands of thousands" of the heavenly hosts fill the air
with their presence and songs of praise. In the distance, as
if at the foot of the throne of Jehovah, is a white cross whese
dazzling light streams downward upon the heads of the
countless millions, giving them a heavenly look, and finally
resting upon the immaculate Son of God.

There are several others of which I should like to speak.
SuflSce it to say that a visit to Dore's Gallery is well worth
the trouble and expense. There is a stillness and death-like
silence in the ball, which add to the solemnity of the al-
ready sacred appearance of things. No one speaks above a
whisper. This is very befitting the nature of the paintings.

We make a little excursion out to

HAMPTOif COURT,

the former residence of the crowned heads of England. The
pleasure of the trip is greatly enhanced by the company of
three intelligent young ladies from America. Leaving out
the lovely grounds, which are studded with beautiful beds
and borders of rare flowers, with an occasional orange tree
bearing ripe fruit, and the carpets of green, rendered sombre
by the deep shade from the stately trees, the most interest-
ing features at Hampton are the tapestry and paintings
which have decorated this royal mansion for hundreds of
years. Some of the tapestry is so old that it is beginning
to fall to shreds and is fast losing its original colors.

At night, we go around to Covent Garden, to attend a
promenade concert. Madame Antoinette Sterling, Miss
Annie Marriott and Mr. Maybrick, a celebrated tenor, are to
sing. Between the solos, there is magnificent instrumental
music, a full orchestra, by the band of the Goldstream
Guards. Madame Sterling is denominated " London's Pet "
as a vocalist ; but I am by her somewhat as Mark Twain

208 A Tmp Abroad.

was at Maunheim opera, if she were behind a screen, or in
any place where I could not see her, I should think her in
great distress, or that some one was trying to kill her*
Such shrieks, such squawls, such faces, such twisting of her
mouth — umph I And yet they tell me that it is want of cul-
tivation in me that causes me not to like such beUowiwg.
Well, yes ; I suppose it is. But pray tell me the use of a
man sitting down and frowning, and groaning, and en-
during such unearthly noises, until he can learn to appre-
ciate them ? If it were like learning to eat oysters, I could
undergo the trouble. But it is rather too much like learn-
ing to smoke or to chew tobacco, or to admire the shrieks of
cats on the top of a house — when he has acquired a taste for
it, it is not such a great accomplishment after all I If they
would sing ** Sweet Home," " Windham," " Old Hundred,"
or even " Dixie," or the " Bonnie Blue Flag," I think I could
remain to hear the last of the concert. Instead they sing
" Balero," and such things ; and I know as much before they
begin as I do after they have finished. And I never could
bear to see anybody suflfer as they seem to do in their
efforts. So " I move we adjourn." Would rather be asleep.

BUNHILL FIELDS.

One day I conclude to walk over to this ancient burying
ground, several miles away from my boarding house. It is
one of the most interesting spots in London. Its quaint
looking tombs vividly remind one that he is wandering
among the things of long ago. Some of the wisest and best
men the world ever knew are buried here.

The grounds are divided into two parts, with a walk be-
tween, each part being surrounded by an iron fence. An
old man, the keeper, stands at the front gate to direct vis-
itors, thousands of whom come to this hallowed place an-
nually. First of all, I inquire for the grave of John Bunyan,
the holy dreamer. His is a neat, plain tomb, and was

BuNHiLL Fields. 209

restored by public subscription under the presidency of the
Earl of Shaftesbury, May, 1862. It is somewhat in the form
of a vault. On one side is a representation of the Pilgrim
bending beneath his burden ; on the other a cross. On the
top is this simple inscription :

"JOHN BUNYAN,

Author of the

^PILGPwIM'S PROGRESS.'

OBt. 3ist. Augt. 1688,

AE. 60."

As I gaze upon this tribute of respect, paid to the memory
of the great hero of faith, I weep, and my heart lifts itself
in praise to God for the life of such a man.

And there are many other names which attract me.
Here is th-e last resting place of John Owen, D. D,; not far
away lies "Lieutenant General Chas. Fleetwood, buried
1692,'' Daniel Williams, D. D., founder of the Library in
Red Cross Street, Isaac ¥/atts, D. D., Daniel De Foe, author
of "Robinson Crusoe," and Rev. Joseph Hughes, for thirty-
seven years pastor of the Baptist church at Battersea. He
was one of th^e founders of the Religious Tract Society, the
originator of the British and Foreign Bible Society, and for
oQore than thirty years, until his death, one of the Secreta-
ries of each of these societies. Other familiar names I see —
Hunter, Dodson, Savage, Dickson, Smith, Jones, and many
others.

Here lie the remains of John and Charles Wesley, and
their mother Susannah Wesley. But their monuments are
j ust opposite the front gate across the street, in the grounds
of City Roads Chapel, where John Wesley used to preach,
and where they have collected quite a number of relics, in
memory of the great and good man.

Saturday afternoon, I take a little trip out to Welling-
14

210 A Trip Abroad.

borough, to visit the family of *Mr. S. J. Fall, our Agent of
Emigration. 8oon after I enter the cars, a nicely dressed
man comes and deposits his hand luggage in the same com-
partment, and just opposite my seat. So doing, he steps off
to a restaurant and is gone some minutes. In the mean-
time, the compartment is pretty well filled, but a respectable
looking lady comes in, and, finding no other vacant seat,
takes that on which the satchel lies.* Pretty soon the **lord
of creation '' returns, looks in and sternly inquires of the
lady if she did not find his luggage on that seat. She
quietly informs him that she did ; whereupon the brutal wag
rudely reminds her that it is his seat, and that he is going
to return presently and take it

Ere long we move off, bidding farewell to London, per-
haps forever. My way lies past Bedford, where John
Bunyan was incarcerated, and where he wrote the "Pil-
grim's Progress." Instead of the prison, there now stands
a magnificent building fronting the Railroad, and in the
lawn, in large letters, the passer-by reads,

What changes the hand of time hath wrought! But
greater ones yet await the will of the Great Infinite.

I find Mrs. Fall as genial and agreeable as she used to be
in Raleigh. Mr. Fall shows me a number of photographs
of familiar faces which he brought with him from the "Old
North State." It makes me feel so much at home to see
them. Among the number is one of Dr. J. I>. Hufham,
which Mr. Fall's little boy says resembles Dr. Tanner, since
his long fast. Am certain Bro. Hufham will not feel com-
plimented, and I don't blame him.

(Wellingborough) is a considerable little town and has
one thing that pleases me very much. I find not only here,
but in other parts of the eountry what they call

*Mr. Fall has since died.

Wellingborough. 211

public coffbe houses.

These are designed to take the places of the beer gardens
and drinking saloons, which are so numerous everywhere.
I am told that they are proving very eflBcacious and are re
ceiving the hearty approval of all, and the patronage of
many, who formerly spent their time and money in drink-
ing and gambling dens. They keep lemonade and that
class of drinks, but nothing stronger than coffee. Thousands
of the working classes go to these houses to get their meals,
and everything is so cheap that all may eat bountifully.
For from seven to nine cents, you may get a good meal, in-
eluding coffee, bacon, bread and eggs, (butter thrown in.)
You may eat it here, or take it with you. The rooms are
tastily and attractively arranged, and really look quite
home-like. Around the walls are little mottoes, one of
which attracts me very much: " We conquer step by atep,*^
Ah I that is the secret after all! *^ Stq) by stepT Many a
drunkard has been reclaimed and many a desolate home
made glad by the institution of these coffee houses. Why
shall we not try them in America and thus save from ruin
many of the rising generation ?

Another pleasant feature of my visit is brought about in
rather an amusing way. The other day, on parting with a
friend from North Carolina, whom I chanced to meet in
London, and who is to sail a week or two before I do, he
asked me what message he must carry home for me. I
asked him to tell my friends that I wanted a biscuit, be-
cause I was so tired of eating the tough bread which I have
found wherever I have been. I relate the incident to Mr.
Fall in Mrs. Fall's presence, and when we go down to sup-
per, what do I find but a plate of good old North Carolina
biscuits, fresh from the oven, baked over here in England I
Mrs. Fall learned the art while living in Raleigh, and has
not forgotten it This is the most delightful part of the

212 A Trip Abroad.

programme, although they have a considerable laugh at my
expense. I mustn't tell how many biscuits I eat.

Hearing a considerable noise out on the street, we look,
and there comes a squadron of the "Salvation Army,"
marching, singing, hallooing, and creating a general confu-
sion. They pass along the streets in this way, until they
have gathered a pretty large crowd, and then they stop at
some prominent place, and preach and pray in the open air.
This system may do some good, but it evidently does much
harm, causing many to ridicule what looks like fanaticism,
and driving many others farther from receiving the gospel.

From Wellingborough I go through the limestone moun-
tains, in Derbyshire, to Liverpool, where I am to meet my
friend, whom I left in London, and who is making a little
excursion out to Oxford and Stratford-on-Avon, the home
and last resting-place of Shakspeare.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SCOTLAND.

Tuesday morning we leave for Scotland. The beautiful
hillsides and fertile valleys are almost covered with huge
shocks of wheat, which are still standing in the fields, and
around which the crows have accumulated in such num-
bers, that they almost darken the sky, as they rise. There
seem to be millions of them, and the law prohibits their
being killed. The farmers have to drive them off, as they
would chickens. As we approach the border-land between
England and Scotland, the country becomes more pictur-
esque, the beauty of the scenery brightens, the number of
grain-fields becomes less^ and the people seem to devote
more of their time to raising hay and cattle. We go

Melrose Abbey. 213

through a lovely section for several miles, without seeing a
single foot of land under cultivation, except a few square
yards around the doors of the little cottages, which aroused
as vegetable gardens. There are no trees. The whole land-
scape is covered with luxuriant gras3, which supplies the
thousands of sheep and cattle with an abundance of food,
and leaves a surplus for sale. For this and the wool, butter,
cheese, etc., furnished by the sheep, goats and cows, the
people obtain food and clothing.
We first stop to visit

MELROSE ABBEY,

in a small town, whose slumbering sweetness and silent
restfulness are disturbed only by the snorting locomotive, •
as it puffs along its iron way, and the murmuring of the
waters of the beautiful Tweed. When first my feet touch
Scotland's soil — the land of my forefathers — a thrilling sen-
sation fills my bosom, and I feel that it is meet to do as
did Moses of old, at the sight of the burning bush, for
surely the ground whereon I stand "is holy ground." An-
other has so beautifully drawn the picture and so fully ek-
pressed the feelings that well up in my bosom, that I will
give 3'ou his language. I quote from a letter written by
Rev. W. B. Palmore, my traveling companion, to the St.
Louis Christian Advocate :

" How is it, or why is it, that 'Caledonia, stern and wild,
should occupy so large a place in the thought of the world?
It is said to be not her territorial extent, nor the pictur-
esqueness of her scenery; not her political importance or
material wealth ; but because Scotland has been the battle-
ground of truth, the arena of moral conflicts, the birth-
place of noble ideas.

" From the bonnie highland heather of her lofty sum-
mits, to the modest lilly of the vale, not a flower but has
blushed with patriot blood. From the foaming crest of

214

A Trip Abroad.

Solway, to the calm, polished breast of Loch Katrine, not a
river or lake but has swelled with the life-tide of freemen.
" Our entry into this land was frdm the South, and our first
halt in the valley of the Tweed, at the town of Melrose. This
town owes its fame to the old Abbey in the vicinity, around

MELROSE ABBEY.

whose ruins art, poety and romance have clustered such en-
during associations. Washington Irving once wrote that, * I
had longed to tread in the footsteps of antiquity, to loiterabout
the ruined castle, to meditate on the falling tower, to escape
from the commonplace realities of the present, and lose my-
self among the shadowy grandeurs of the past.' So, from
early boyhood, we had longed to look upon the dreamy

Melrosr Abbey. 215

ruins^ find walk amid the silence and solitude of Melrose
Abbey. It was nigh unto midnight when we entered alone
to sit and watch through the rifted clouds for the moon to
reveal it8<;harins and its glories. When all the village
was hushed into the silence as if of death, there seemed to
be some magic hand moving in sympathy with our wishes
to draw aside the curtain of cloud. A flood of soft, silvery
light was thus thrown upon a scene so strangely fascinating,
as to make us wonder is it real, or am I * walking in my
sleep'? The elaborate tracery of arch and window, with
interlacing of ivy, was duplicated in softened shadows upon
the sepulchral pavement within. One old window in the
east, fifty-seven feet high and twenty-eight wide, is divided
by four mullions of such delicacy as to resemble wicker-
work.

* Thou would'sl have thought some fairy's hand

'Twixt poplars straight, the ozier wand

In many a freaking ls.not had twined ;

Then framed a spell when the work was done,

And changed the willow wreaths to stone.'

As we walked over the graves of Alexander, Bruce, James
and Douglas, we felt as if the cloistered spirits of seven cen-
turies ago were heeding our footfalls and watching our
movements."

As we go down the street towards the Abbey Hotel, our
eyes are attracted by this sign : " John Knox, Baker," At
the hotel we find some soap in our room. This is the first
time we have found any since we left New York. Now, I
would not have you think that we have gone without soap
all these two and a half months. We brought some with
us. But to find soap in a hotel is such a novel occurrence,
that I am constrained to mention it.

The whole top of the Abbey is gone, nothing remains but
the walls. Just over there is the window which the servant
of the artist made out of the fragments of glass which his
master had thrown away. (See Illustration.) And here is
the spot where they buried the heart of Robert Bruce, the

216 A Trip Abboao.

Scottish hero. Many other things are worthy of note, hat
I must pass them all over, save the old wooden clock which
hangs upon the richly carved wall, where it hung centuries
ago. It now looks down upon the graves of the departed
ones who used to be directed by the bands on its rude dial.
Farther down the Tweed is

DRYBURGH ABBEY,

where rest the mortal remains of Sir Walter Scott, as well
as those of his wife, son and son-in-law, J. G. Lockhart,
who was his biographer and special friend.

It is about three miles from Melrose, and one and a half
from the railroad. As we approach the slowly winding
stream whose limpid waters ripple over the white pebbles
and beneath the sombre shade of the birch, the maple and
the elm, a feeling of awe steals over us, and we feel as if we
are in the presence of death. A little suspension bridge
takes us across the river, and a foot-path leads us along
through a forest and finally into a lovely arch-way, where
the hand of art, aided by nature, has done lavishly. A
winding avenue, hedged in on either side by a row of stately
beeches, along whose sides are many rustic grottoes and
shady bowers, points the traveler to the place — of all others
in Scotland, perhaps, — the most interesting to the student
of history and lover of fiction.

The Abbey was built in A. D. 1150 and was one hundred
and ninety by seventy-five feet. Nothing now remains of
its former glory, save the mouldering walls, the relics of
elegant carving and the old dungeon and cloisters used by
the monks. The entrance is by an arch-way of large box
bushes. Here is the old dining hall. Just there is the
Monastery gate, while over head is St. Catherine's window,
almost exactly like the circular window in the steeple of
the first Baptist church in Raleigh, except that it is much
larger. The walls are all covered with ivy and the lovely

Abbottsfobd. 217

grottoes and beautiful bowers which line them are nearly
hid from sight by the hanging vines. Just without the
walls stands the old yew tree which is seven hundred years
old.

We are brought rapidly from the sublime to the ridicu-
lous, as we return, by the sight of three men with their
pants rolled up as high as possible, wading the Tweed rather
than pay three pence to cross on the bridge.

On reaching the railroad, we take the cars for Galashields,
whence we go to

ABBOTTSFORD,

the home of Sir Walter Scott, which is only four miles
above Melrose, and also on the banks of the Tweed. On
reaching the station, we find ourselves on the opposite side
of the stream from the residence of the distinguished man.
Looking around, we see the passengers who alight from the
cars, making tlieir way to a little row-boat which lies at the
edge of the water. Soon a bonny Scottish lassie in slippers
comes gliding from the door of a neighboring cottage, takes
her position in the boat, and rows the first load (six per-
sons) across. My friend is very sentimental, (as most old
bachelors are,) and is about to go into ecstasies over the ro-
mance of such a ride. He offers to aid the bonny lass,
thinking her too beautiful and her form too slender to be
inured to such hardships. But she blushingly declines, and
soon we are transported to the other bank.

As we float gracefully across the crystal waters of this
historic river propelled by the strokes of oars pulled by the
hands of a delicate maiden, we cast our eyes down the rip-
pling stream and over the verdant landscapes which envi-
ron its edges, and we are held speechless by the beauty, the
grandeur, the sublimity of the surroundings. When we
reach the opposite shore, Mr. Palmore pauses to ask the
maiden something of her history. She says her name is

218 A Tbip Abroad.

Isabella Dunn. She is fifteen years old, and her father is a
gardner. It is her business to row passengers across the
river, and there are scores of them almost every day.

We now walk up to Abbottsford, which is situated on a
lofty eminence overlooking the Tweed, and surrounded by
lovely grassy slopes, which skirt the very edge of the waters
and aflford a splendid view of the whole surrounding coun-
try. And no one can fully appreciate the beauties of the
valley of the Tweed, save those who have witnessed them.

Mrs. Maxwell Scott, the great-grand-daughter of Sir Wal-
ter, is the present owner of the premises. There are seventy-
five or a hundred visitors every day, who pay their respects
and their money, too, to the memory of the great writer.
These pay one shilling each to see the relics collected by this
wonderful man — the largest private collection ever gotten
together by any one man. This amounts to twenty or
twentj'-five dollars per day.

Would like to mention the interesting relics here to be
seen, but the list would be too long. Will only give the
most striking. In the Study are the chair and desk used by
Mr. Scott, and made from the wood of a Spanish armada, as
well as his pipes and canes. In the Library are the chairs
given him by the Pope of Rome, the portfolio of Napoleon
Bonaparte, taken at Waterloo and presented by the Duke of
Wellington, Flora McDonald's pocket book, the clasps taken
from the mantle of Napoleon, and the ebony chairs and desk,
a present from George IV. In the Drawing room are por-
traits of the whole family, as well as of one of his favorite
dogs. The Armony contains the silver sword and sheath
from the Celtic Society, the sword of Montrose and Prince
Charlie, Bruce's candlestick, specimens of thumbscrews used
in Scott's day, the cross carried by Mary, Queen of Scots,
when beheaded, as well as " Rob Roy's " gun and sword. In
the Entrance Hall may be seen an instrument which, they
say^ was used to punish " scolding wives" It is made of iron,
fits over the head and under the lower jaw, with a projec-

Edinburgh. 219

lion tbat goes into the moath and works under the tongue,
so as to keep the mouth open, and the tongue raised. A
chain is attached to a little ring just under the mouth so as
to conduct the unruly partner through the streets. What a
pity that this slander, as well as all other such thrusts at the
fairer sex by the boasting " lords of creation," cannot be
visited by a similar punishment. Then would *' the wicked
cease from troubling, and the weary be at rest."

Here are also the clock of Maria Antoinette, Scott's last
suit of clothes, (hat, shoes and all,) a mosaic table from Rome,
the keys of the old Tolbooth (jail) at Edinburgh, and a sword
found on Bosworth-field six feet and five inches long.

EDINBURGH.

This city, with its elegant stone buildings, is one of the
handsomest in Europe. Spacious parks and lovely flower-
gardens beautify many portions of its undulating surface.

We stop at " Old Waverly Hotel," nearly opposite the
magnificent marble monument of Sir Walter Scott. On
either side, the lofty houses tower far above our heads, and
almost mingle with the fleecy clouds which float gracefully
through the cerulean sky. Many of them are seven and
eight stories high. One strange thing I notice. The peo-
ple plant a good many of their fruit-trees very near the
walls, (of the houses or the fences,) and then fasten the
limbs tightly to the walls, making them grow flat against
them. This has a tendency to ripen the fruit earlier, as the
walls attract a good deal of heat, and besides, they are quite
ornamental.

To see Edinburgh, one must do some right tall climbing,
and a good deal of it. We begin pretty soon, and make our
first trip out to

Arthur's seat,

a little mountain just outside the suburbs, to see the sun
rise. And what a magnificent view it gives us I Two miles

220 A T&ip Abroad.

to the east spread the expansive waters of the Firth of Forth,
which, in the morning sunlight, look like a sea of burnished
gold, and to the north lies the metropolis of Scotland, still
quiet, as if wrapt in the slumbers of night. Edinburgh has
well been termed " The Modern Athens,'* from its resem-
blance to the ancient capital of Greece. Far oflF in the
north is the Castle, almost as impregnable as the fortifica-
tions at Quebec. To the northeast stands the Calton Hill,
upon whose summit the magnificent monument of Lord
Nelson rises three hundred and fifty feet above the level of
the sea. Not far away is the National Monument, " built
to commemorate the heroes who fell at Waterloo. The de-
sign is a reproduction of the Parthenon, but unfortunately
the ambition of the projectors was in advance of their funds,
and it remains unfinished." Further down the slope, and
somewhat between these two, stands the Burns Monument,
a grand marble structure. Beyond is another splendid shaft
erected to the memory of Wellington.

Turning our eyes westward, we glance over the tops of
the elegant houses which form a magnificent panorama, and
rest our vision upon the fertile plains below us. The busy
locomotive is making its way through many a field teeming
with life and rendered joyous by the songs of the merry
birds. Beneath our feet lie several placid lakes, reflecting
the beauties of the sky above and the grassy slopes around.

"The Queen's Drive" is a beautiful road which winds its
way around the mountain on every side, beginning and
terminating at Holyrood Palace. Just above Holyrood is
Saint Anthony's Chapel, " which forms so picturesque an
object on the shoulder of the hill." Near by is a large rock
above a little spring, which marks the spot where Jeanie
Deans met the rufiian Robertson.

South of Arthur's Seat lies the little village of Dudding-
ton, and the loch by the same name. In the vicinity is the
Duddington House. Following the "Queen's Drive," we
find, overhanging the road, a " range of porphyritic green-

In Edinburgh. 221

stone columns of a pentagonal or hexagonal form, from fifty
to sixty feet in length, and five in diameter, called Samson's
Ribs." Still further north, and around the mountain, is the
place where Jeanie Deans' cottage may still be seen.

Now we will go to breakfast. Board is more costly in
Scotland than in the other countries visited by us. But the
eatables are much nicer and better prepared, and everything
is so neat and tidy. Who can avoid drawing a comparison
between the advantages offered by a Protestant and a Roman
Catholic state ? Here education, refinement, enlightenment,
civilization and civility prevail ; there ignorance, supersti-
tion, vice and crime hold sway. Thank God for a free
America !

CHAPTER XXVIII.

IN EDINBURGH.

Come with us around to the Antiquarian Museum for a
short time, and take a glimpse at its interesting curiosities.
It is not a very large building, but is full of such things as
will please the fancy of one on a trip abroad.

Among many other things "too numerous to mention''
we see a number of stone implements, Celts' axes, arrows,
clay and stone urns, crania found in early graves, personal
ornaments of gold and silver, used centuries ago, and even
Rob Roy's purse with his concealed pistols. Here are some
brooches, worn hundreds of years ago, and bearing some
such inscriptions as these: "Ihesus. Nazarenus. Rex. lude."
(Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.) Here is one with
" Ihesus. Nazarenus. Rex. ludeorum.," on one side, and
"Ave. Maria. Gracie. Plena. Ora.," on the other. Some of
these were found in a church at Middlebie,in Dumfriesshire
in 1849.

222 A Tbip AfiKOAft.

Bat look I Here is something in which we Americans are
more interested. It is a stand of wooden work, revolving
on an upright staflF, with folding leaves which contain some
literary relics. Among these is a copy of the resolutions
passed by Congress at Philadelphia, February, 1776. Also
samples of the paper money issued by that Congress, one-
third of a dollar, one-sixth of a dollar, etc. On one of the
bills I read the following : ^

" Mind your business. Fugio.

" According to a Resolution op Congress, passed at Phil-
adelphia, Feb. 17, 1776. Sam Sellers.'*

Here are some eggs, fruit and grain, brought from the
tombs at Thebes. There is a sample of Chinese war dress.
Just here let me relate a little story which my friend tells
me. He says that a personal friend of his, the son of a mis-
sionary to China, gave him the following information with
reference to the Chinese mode of fighting. They shoot away
until twelve or one o'clock, about their time for dinner,
when some one blows a horn, both armies throw down their
implements of destruction, and hasten off to eat their lunch.
This done, they return, and, at a given signal, resume their
deadly work.

Here is something else worthy of note. It is a cast of
the " Rosetta Stone," brought from Alexandria, in Egypt,
1802. It contains an inscription in hieroglyphics. Encho-
rial and Greek, relative to Ptolemy Epiphanes, about 194
years B. C. It was put here by the Senatus of Edinburgh
University, in 1865.

THE CASTLE

is built on a precipitous rock three hundred and eighty*
three feet above the sea level, and was the original nucleus
around which the city grew. " Before the invention of
gun powder, it was considered almost impregnable; but now
its strength is inore apparent than real. The buildings2ar6

The Gabulk. 2Z3

principally modern, and consist of baracks for two thousand
soldiers and an armory of thirty thousand stand of arms.''
As we pass along the esplanade, there is a company of raw
recruits drilling.

Nearer the summit is a huge gun believed to have been
forged at Mons, in Belgium A. D., 1476. It was used at the
siege of Norham Castle in 1497, sent to the Tower of London
in 1754 and restored to Scotland by George IV. in 1829.
Near its mouth is a pile of large stone balls, such as they
used to shoot from it. They are nearly two feet in diameter*
I amuse myself a good deal at the uniform of the High-
landers who are among the soldiery. We go all among the?
guns and the squadrons of soldiers, expecting every moment
to arrive at the place where we will have to pay an admit-
tance fee. But we finally reach the top^ without being
called upon for a cent! This is the first free institution W8
have found in all Europe 1

QUEEN MARQARET^S CIlAPEL^

the oldest house in Edinburgh, occupies the loftiest part of
the hill on which the Castle stands. It is a small stone
structure consisting of only two rooms. In one of these is
an altar, and this inscription on the wall :

" S. Margareta, Scotonim Begina,

Obit. X. IVNE, M. XC, III."
{" Saint Margaret, queen of the Scotch,-

Died June lOthr, 1098/^)

This was Margaret, queen of Malcolm Oanmore. The
building was long used as a powder-magazine, "and its
antiquity and interest were unheeded, until attention was
drawn to it as a relic of Norman architecture." In the front
or main entrance room stands the old sexton with views of
Scotland for sale.

QUEEN Mary's room

is very near,^ but we do not go into it^ " Here Queen Mary

224

A Trip Abroad,

gave birth to Jam^s VI., in whom the crowns of England
and Scotland were united."

JOHN KNOX'S HOUSE.

From the Castle we make our way down High Street.
Soon we stand in front of

THE ASSEMBLY HALL,

the place of meeting for the General Assembly of the church
of Scotland. St. Giles' church is a little further down. At
the northwest corner formerly stood the "Old Talbooth
gaol," often called "The Heart of Mid-Lothian," rendered

HoLYBOOD Palace. 225

famous by Scott's writings. There is now the form of a
heart wrought in the pavement, which marks the site. The
old cemetery of St. Giles has been converted into the Parlia-
ment Square. Many notable men were buried here, among
them John Knox, the location of whose grave is indicated
by a small square piece of white marble inserted in the
pavement, near the statue of Charles II., upon which you
may read this simple inscription; "I. K., 1572;" that being
the year of his death.

The Parliament House has been used as the place of meet-
ing for the Supreme Courts, since the Union, A little
further down the street is

JOHN KNOX's HOUSE,

where he resided from 1560 to the time of his death ia 1572.
The upper part of it is now used as a snufF factory, the lower
story by a sign painter. The three original rooms are still
to be seen, though they have been somewhat changed in the
interior.

Turning up South Bridge Street, we soon find ourselves
at the University. But it is closed, and we make our way
back in the same direction, and shortly afterwards find our-
selves standing in front of

HOLYKOOD PALACE*

Around this venerable seat of Scottish royalty cluster
many interesting and instructive associations. But I am
not writing a history of Scotland. And besides, all these
things are familiar to the minds of the reader. So I shall
only refer to some of them in passing. Here is the picture-
gallery whose walls are covered with *' fanciful portraits " of
Scottish kings, queens and nobles. Here, too, are Lord
Darnley's rooms, from which he had access, by a private
staircase, to those of the Queen above. The Tapestry room
15

226

A Tbip Abroad.

is also very interesting, and contains, also, a portrait of
James, fourth Duke of Hamilton, as well as other paintings.
" Queen Mary's apartments are the most ancient in the
palace, and remain an interesting relic of the unhappy
Princess by whom they were occupied. Passing through
the Audience Chamber, we enter the Queen's Bedroom, with
some antique furniture. The roof of this, as of the previous

HOLY ROOD PALACE.

room, is divided into panels, on which are painted various
initials and coats-of-arms. The interest of this room hangs
on its connection with the tragical murder of the favorite,
Rizzio, the story of which forms so romantic an episode in
Scottish history."

Why here is the very door through which Darnley and
the conspirators entered, taking the Queen and her party
by surprise. Here is the closet, too, in which Rizzio tried to

''Take Some Snuff." 227

take refuge. And here, near the door of the Audience
Chamber, where the body lay, after its slaughter, the blood-
stain is still to be seen upon the floor. The unfortunate
victim was buried in the passage leading to the Abbey, just
outside the Palace. The Abbey contains a good many
graves of distinguished men.

THE AQUARIUM

is very nicely arranged and presents some of the finest
specimens of fish to be anywhere seen. Close by is the
vegetable market, a large building covered with glass, with
floor of asphalt. Here, in the afternoon, we witness a
bicycle race, engaged in by four young men. The floor is
of such material as to produce no noise at all, as the bicycles
glide over it, and the riders seem to be skimming around
by magic.

At 6:20 A. M., after a good night's rest, we board the train
again and are ofip for other parts. A large, fleshy Scotch-
man comes into our compartment, before the train starts,
and soon shows himself quite companionable by his free,
easy manners. We have gone but a short distance, when he
draws a box out of his pocket and says, " Will you take
some snuS*?" Now you must excuse me for laughing, but
that sounds so much like some parts of North Carolina, that
I am transported, in an instant, to her far off shores and —
well, I shall not give you the picture that comes up before
me. Returning thanks, I inform him that I don't use
tobacco in any form. My friend, however, " takes a snuff,"
and, following the example of the Scotchman, stuffs it up
his nose. This is the way they use it altogether over here.
The great burly Scotchman takes pinch after pinch, until
his large, red, pug-nose looks as if he has been rooting in a
bank of dust and his proboscis is '•' aI>out to bhomJ' He says
that he is trying to get up a sneeze ; but no sneeze. To my
left is a very different picture. Hearing something a little
less violent than a clap of thunder — " Scatch-up ! scatch-up ! I

228 A Tkip Abroad.

scatch-up I ! ! " — I turn to find my friend in a fit of sneezing,
with his eyes as red as a terrapin's, and the water streaming
from them. " Pretty strong I" he concludes, after awhile,
but refuses the next time the box is passed around.

The gentleman tells us that he is a snuff manufacturer
and gets his tobacco from " Old Virginny." The English
government refuses to allow its subjects to raise tobacco, ex-
cept in very small quantities — ninety-nine hills. This is to
give the government the benefit of the revenue derived from
the duty on its importation. The people will use it, and so
they tax it as a luxury and they must pay for it in propor-
tion.

At Stirling the train makes such a long stay, that we get
out to see what is the matter. A policeman informs us that
Her Majesty is coming on a special train, bound for the
north of Scotland. When this is the case, every other train,
for tbree-quarters of an hour before, must be switched off
the main track to give way for the Queen. After a long
time, we see an engine approaching. Everything is excite-
ment. But it darts past us almost like an arrow and is gone.
This is the pilot which goes fifteen minutes in advance, to
see that the tract is clear and everything all right.

The platform is thronged with people, and all along the
fences on either side of the railroad, as far as we can see,
almost every foot is occupied — all eager to get a glimpse of
the Queen. Finally the train comes in sight, darts by and
is gone again, in the midst of a hearty round of applause.
They are always anxious to see her. But we can merely see
her form as she passed.

At Callander, we leave the railroad and start across the
country on a diligence, or stage. Now we are in the very
midst of the region rendered so famous by Scott's "Lady of
the Lake." Only a short distance above Callander is Kilma-
hog toll, where we cross the river Leny. A few rods to the
south of the place of its confluence with the Teith, whose
flooded current

Through the Trossachs. 229

** Twice • • • • ftrom. shore to shore,
The gallant gray swam stoutly o*er."

Now we are passing around one of the spurs of Benledi,
upon whose heath-covered summit lies " Samson's Putting-
stone," a large bolder, ready, apparently, to roll down at the
slightest touch. On the neighboring height of Dunmore
are the remains of an old British fort.

Just to our left, towards the south, as the coach proceeds,
is the rippling stream through which the waters of the lakes
above are sent onward to the sea. Here, near the ruins of
an old mill, is " Coilantogle Ford," where Roderick Dhu
challenged Fitz James to single combat :

*' See hero, all vantageless I stand,
Armed like thyself with single brand ;
For this is Coilantogle Ford,
And thou must keep thee with thy sword."

Here is Loch Venachar, a pretty sheet of water, five miles
long afld more than a mile wide. Near its head is the wild
spot which was the gathering ground of Clan-Alpine, and
where they lay in ambuscade until aroused by the whistle
of Roderick, when —

** Instant th rouge copse and heath arose
Bonnets and spears and beaded brows;
On right, on left, above, below.
Sprang up at once the lurking foe;
From shingles gray their lances start.
The bracken bush sends forth the dart,
The rushes and the willow-wand
Are bristling into axe and brand.
And every tuft of broom gives life
To plaided warrior armed for strife."

We next reach the Highland huts of Duncraggan and
the opening to the deer-forest of Glenfinlas. Then we cross
the old bridge rendered so renowned from the single
couplet —

" And when the Brlgg of Turk was won.
The headmost horseman rode alone."

230 A Trip Abroad.

Now we are nearing the margin of Loch Achray. The
scenery is still gentle but lovely; and-

"The rocks— the bosky thickets sleep
So stilly in thy bosom deep."

Here the road makes a sudden turn to the left, and we are
soon meandering in the cool shade and sombre gloom of

THE TROSSACHS.

These are nothing more than a succession of crags and
cliffs and dismal gorges which extend from Loch Achray to
Loch Katrine. Near the entrance to the gorge is the spot
where Fitz-James lost his " gallant gray." There is a large
hotel near for the accommodation of visitors, numbers of
whom spend much of their summer here.

About a mile further, and we are at the foot of Loch
Katrine, the loveliest sheet of water on which my eyes have
ever rested. High in the south rises Benvenue, whose crags
and knolls and rocky cliffs are duplicated in the placid
waters below. On the north Ben-an, " through middle air
heaves high his forehead bare." Between these two huge
mountains the wild forests of the Trossachs lie in awful
grandeur, while just beyond you see the opening of the
" dread Goblin's Cave" in which Ellen and her father took
refuge.

The little steamer, " Rob Roy," waits to take us up the
lake. Soon we are gliding sweetly, noiselessly along on the
bosom of the crystal flood, and

" Islands that, empurpled bright,
Floated amid the livelier light,"

seem but the productions of fairy dreams. Chiefest and
loveliest of these is Ellen's Isle, whose enchanted shores are
doubly beautified by the waving copse-wood, the " weeping
birch and willow." Around this romantic spot we slowly
move, and soon, beyond, there opens a view whose charms

Through Loch Katrine. 231

the pen of the poet could poorly portray. Far in the dis-
tance the Highland peaks lift their huge heads heavenward
and veil their craggy faces in the fleecy clouds that float in
the aeure sky. Adown their rocky gorges unpretending
brooklets wind their rugged ways. Their slopes, "more
beautiful than the poet's dream," are covered with the
heather whose purple blossoms are full blown and give a
lovely tint to the whole landscape. Near the water's edge
you see an occasional cottage, around whose walls waving
fields of golden grain appear and about whose doors little
children sport in their joyous glee. Just on the shore we
see the "silver strand," stretching along the beautiful lake,
and herds of cattle stand upon its snowy borders, drink from
the pure waters which lave its pearly mass and rest lazily
beneath the shade of the neighboring trees. The surface of
the lake is perfectly smooth — not a ripple plays upon its
quiet bosom — and deep down in its crystal depths you see
the whole landscape duplicated — the mountains, the cliSs,
the heath-flowers, throwing a purplish tint on all, the hills,
the fields, the'verdant slopes, the cottages and the living,
moving objects. Even the flight of a bird may be traced in
the waters at our feet. Casting our eyes farther behind us,
where the boat has broken the smooth surface, we behold
all the scenery just described thrown into a mass of moving,
waving, rolling beauty.

Loch Katrine is now used as the reservoir from which
the five hundred thousand inhabitants of the city of Glas-
gow are supplied with pure fresh water. The huge aque-
duct extends thirty-five miles and makes its way through
the base of hills and mountains until it reaches its destina-
tion.

At the west end of the lake we disembark and again take
the stage for Loch Lomond, " the finest of Scottish lakes,"
a distance of five miles. This body of water is twenty-three
miles long and, in some places, five miles wide. It is from
twenty to one hundred fathoms deep. At Inversnaid we

232 A Trip Abroad.

board the steamer, " Prince Consort," and sail southward,
threading our way among

"Those emerald isles, whieh calmly sleep
On the blue bosom of the* deep."

Loch Lomond^you know^is the scene of "Rob Roy,"' whose
prison and eave are to be seen among the crags near the
shore. Ben Lomond, the highest mountain in Scotland,
stands just east of the lake.

CHAPTER XXIX.

AYR AND THE BONNY DOON,

On reaching Glasgow, we decide to run down and spend
the night at

AYR,

" Wham ne'er a town surpasses.
For honest men and bonnie lasses."

It is now 7:40 P. M., and the old Burns Cottage is three
or four miles out in the country. Wishing to add a little
more romance to our trip, we decide to walk out and pay a
visit to this interesting place. The night is far from being
what it was when Tam O'Shanter went abroad. It is clear,
cool and pleasant. And yet the miles seem very long be-
fore we reach the desired place.

"The cottage in which the Ary shire songster was born,
two and a half miles from Ayr, has a thatched roof and is
very humble, but not more so than the one in which Shak-
speare was born. Captain Thomas Morley, of the British
Army, now resides in this cottage. He was one of the " No-
ble Six Hundred," and also figured in our late war in
America. Of the thrilling incidents of his eventful life we

Ayr 23S

may write at some fatare time. A little boy of his was
quietly sleeping on the bed where Burns was born. These
old Scotch beds are decidedly unique. You are sometimes
taken into a room to sleep where no sign of a bed is visible^
and while you are wondering as to whether you will sleep
on a table or the floor, your conductor opens a door and
makes the startling development of a bed in the wall I just
exactly where you would never expect to find anything of
the kind. One room is now used as a drinking saloon.

It is quite dark when we reach old Alloway Kirk. We
venture into the large graveyard which surrounds it and
peep through the very window through which Tam saw the
" warlocks and witches in a dance.*' There is the identical
window where ** sat auld Nick, in shape o^ beast," making
music for the rest. But we see no coflins standing round
" like open presses," showing the " dead in their last dresses."
But here is the same old bell, hanging above the ivy cov-
ered gable.

Near the Kirk (church) is a public house where we spend
the nigh. Early in the morning we are up and out. We
first go down to the

and make our way across the auld Brig (bridge) where Meg

" Bronght off her master hale,
But left behind her ain gray tail."

The most of the travel is now across the new brig, which
is a few rods above.

We will now^ go around to the Monument, which is be-
tween the Auld Brig and the Kirk. It is indeed a hand-
some memorial and contains quite a number of interesting
relics, among which you may see the Bibles presented to
Highland Mary at their last meeting. On the fly-leaves
you read Matthew v : 33 and Leviticus xix : 12. Here is
also Bonny Jean's wedding ring. One of the Bibles con-

234 A Trip Abroad.

tains a lock of Highland Mary's hair. Here is a snuff-box,
too, made from some of the wood of the old Kirk.

When we return to Ayr, we go around to see the house
whero Tam and Souter Johnny met. This, like the cot-
tage, has a thatched roof. The only other things of special
interest are the Wallace Monument and the " Twa Brigs."

On our return to Glasgow, I take leave ol my friend, who
will remain several days longer in Scotland.

On my return to Liverpool, I stop again a few hours in Edin-
burgh, aud visit the celebrated Donaldson Hospital, built in
1850 by the munificence of Sir James Donaldson, who en-
dowed it with two hundred and ten thousand pounds sterling,
one million and fifty thousand dollars. It was erected as a
place for educating orphan children and deaf-mutes, about
two hundred of whom have been well educated here within
the past thirty years. It is vacation now, and I do not go
into the buildings, but take a pleasant walk around the
grounds. My information is received from an attendant,
who has been connected with the hospital ever since its
foundation.

There are now in attendance upon the institution, during
the session, about two hundred and sixty children, one half
of whom are deaf-mutes. They have introduced articula-
tion as the method of instruction, but with comparatively
poor success. The gentleman's version of the matter is,
that they teach them to ^^globber" I find the same result
upon my visit to an institution for deaf-mutes in Liverpool.
All the old pupils, who do well and conduct themselves
properly, are annually invited to attend a larg^ dining and
dance. This stimulates them to act in such a way as to
merit the privilege of attending these pleasant re-unions.

Reaching Liverpool about ten o'clock at night, I make
my way at once to a comfortable hotel, where I find a nice-
looking girl keeping the bar. There, now ! ! I have told you
that I went into the " bar !" But it is the only room in
which I see any one, and the place where the "dark" stays.

Particular Baptist Chapel. 235

There are hundreds of temperance hotels in Scotland, and
some in England, but I happen not to strike one this time.
Sunday morning, I go out in search of a Baptist church.
After going a considerable distance and inquiring of a
number of policemen, I find a small house, by whose door
I read in large letters —

"particular baptist chapel."

This means that the members are close-communion Bap-
tists, and distinguished from the many other churches whose
members are open-communionists. The other denomina-
tionfs generally derisively call them " Strict and Particular
Baptists."

As I return to my hotel, I am not a little struck with a
sign I see over a door, which reads thus :

MARY ALLISON QUIRK,

Licensed to RETAiii Beer, Spirits and Foreign Wines,

TO BE Consumed on the Premises ;

AND DEALER IN CIOAR8.

Think she has the right name, for I should certainly call
such a woman quite a Qairk,

Walking on a little farther, I notice, hanging out on the
street, some ferreotype pictures. As I pass, a man walks up
to me and insists that I go in and have " my picture struckJ^
I politely inform him that I don't attend to such duties on
Sunday; whereupon he skulks away. Here, too, are some
colored men, very handsomely dressed, with beaver hats
and kid gloves on, and a white boy standing by with his
blacking-box and brush in hand, trying to induce them to
let him give them " a shine.^^

At night I attend services at Islington Street Presbyterian
church, which is more convenient to my hotel. Here, as at
the Baptist church, the people' have a custom of kneeling
in silent prayer, as they enter their pews. And they all
have their Bibles and hymn-books, and all sing and read.

236 A Trip Abroad.

I like this plan very much. Wish it could be introduced
in our American churches.

Having a day still before sailing, I spend it in visiting the
Public Library, Museum and Art Gallery, the gift of the
Earl of Derby. In the Museum I find quite a number of
interesting relics, such as the gloves and boots of Henry
VI., worn after the battle of Hexham ; the cap and shoes
worn by Lord Byron, during the struggle for the indepen-
dence of Greece; Oliver Cromwell's gourd cup, and a snuflf-
box made of the wood taken from the " Betsy Cain," the
ship which brought William III. to England.

A good part of the afternoon is spent in visiting the docks
and watching the manipulations of the sailors loading and
unloading vessels. It is really fascinating. Here is a tre-
mendous cargo of ice unloading ; it is from Theresa, Nor-
way, and contains six hundred tons. The blocks are sim-
ply enormous. Here is a warehouse full of wheat imported
from America. (Wish I had a biscuit made from its flour.)
There is a pile of corn brought from Odessa, Russia, on the
Black Sea. The grains are much smaller than our corn,
but it is said to be much stronger and better suited for feed-
ing purposes. It is yellow. But just look at these horses I
They are huge I And what loads they put on them I Here
is one poor brute which is pulling so much, that, in going
down hill, he actually has to slide to hold it back. To day
is Tuesday, August 31st. At 4 o'clock this afternoon we sail
for home, sweet home. As I go strolling down to the dock ,
about two o'clock, what a concourse of people I meet 1
They are off a steamer which has just arrived from America.
It reminds me of my landing, a little more than two months
ago.

Now we are all on board. The huge whistle blows and
we are passing out of the harbor. Numbers of large and
small vessels are passed, the* land recedes from sight, and
soon we can sing —

" Out on the ocean all boundless we ride,
We are homeward bound, homeward bound!"

Homeward Bound. 237

CHAPTER XXX. •

HOMEWARD BOUND.

Wednesday afternoon we stop several hours in the harbor
at Queenstown, Ireland, to receive the fast mail from Lon-
don, which is brought through on the ** Wild Irishman,"
the limited express. Some of us go on shore and spend the
time in sight-seeing. I wander some distance out into the
suburbs and gather some shamrock. Also pay a visit to the
new cathedral which is in process of erection. But the con-
dition of these poor people is deplorable in the extreme.
Along the alleys and lanes are little huts and hovels which
look as if they were intended for the abode of hogs. The
women and the children stand, sit or lie about the dirt
floors, a mixed up mass of filth, degradation and woe, look-
ing as if they have never seen a basin of clean water.

The wharves and docks are lined with men and women
begging, and they follow one almost as far as he goes, being
joined, at every street corner by an almost innumerable
throng of the same description. How I pity them ! But
there is no hope for them, until they can be liberated from
the thraldom of king Alcohol and the yoke of Roman
Catholic supremacy. There are scores of emigrants who
board the vessel to make their way over to free America.
And who can blame them ? I had hoped to make an exten-
sive tour through the "auld country," but want of time and
the fightings and turmoils under the Land League prevent
me. Here is one darkie on the dock, assisting in manipu-
lating the vessel.

The rain is falling and has been all day, nor does it stop
at night ; the next day is still worse, and there is quite a
gale at night — the sailors call it a " gale " — I say it is a
storm/ Not the most pleasant sensations begin to fill my
bosom. Notwithstanding the roughness, we make three
hundred and twenty-two miles.

238 A Trii» Abroad.

Saturday, September 4th, is clear and bright and what a
delightful change ! The surging billows and snow-crested
waves run high and toss the old ship, " City of Brussels,"
hither and thither like a toy. The breakers, too, play
wildly, and, in the distance, look like sporting flecks, merry
in their gambols.

I venture out upon deck and am soon feeling much bet-
ter. On Sunday morning the fog is right dense, and there
is nothing that a sailor dreads much worse than a fog. Ere
long the sun begins to peep out and there is formed a love-
ly rainbow, with all its beautiful tints, almost at our feet.

Monday afternoon, in the distance we spy a small sail
boat. On nearer approach we find eight small row boats out
in the neighborhood fishing. We are now oflF the coast of
Newfoundland, where whales are very numerous. Look
there!" There is a regular squadron of them spouting up
the water. But they are rather small, and at considerable
distance from the ship. It is really interesting to watch the
boatmen in their efforts to catch them. Two or three miles
away is a tremendous one. Only a part of his body is visi-
ble above the water, of course, but he looks to be at least
seventy-five or a hundred feet long. Look at his mammoth,
back, as he floats lazily along, occasionally flapping his gi-
gantic tail in the water. He looks like a huge log out there ;
wish we were near enough to get a better view of him.

The sun is now fast sinking in the western sky. Just be-
fore it hides itself in its watery bed, it peeps out from behind
a cloud which stretches along the horizon, leaving a bright
border above the water. This is changed into a belt of
crimson, and from it go out, in lovely tints, all the colors of
the rainbow, varying in proportion to their distance frona
the sun. The restless waves move hither and thither, re- .
fleeting these beautiful hues and mingling them in one
grand medley. All hail, thou king of day, for surely thou
wast ne'er before robed in such brilliant array, nor decked
with such gorgeous apparel I Surely thy fiery steeds ne'er

Homeward Boitnd. 239

before trod 8uch gaudy pathways, nor thy coursers sped their
way amid such unearthly glories 1

The scene is changed. The proud monarch of the starry
hosts has sunk behind the restless waters of the mighty deep.
The cloud above has assumed the form of a mammoth wing^
which stretches entirely across from west to north. The
brilliant, dazzling colors before presented are softened into
lovely tints of silver and gold, while a belt of scarlet still
encircles the horizon. The whole crew is attracted by the
grandeur, the sublimity of the surroundings, and men, wo-
men and children stand and wonder, and gaze and admire
what seems almost a foretaste uf the beauties of the celestial
world. "Oh,^how beautiful!" bursts from many lips; and
then, realizing how utterly incompetent the English lan-
guage is to express a half of what the enraptured vision is
taking in, the astonished beholders gaze mutely on, feeling
that it is almost sacrilege to intrude another word.

But see the varying hues, as they slowly fade and gently
give place to others more soft, until the huge wing has as-
sumed the tints of peal, and the delicate down of the ostrich
plume is common compared to the dainty appearance of the
fleecy mass above our heads. Indeed it reminds one of the
shading on the inside of a rare sea-shell. In the midst of
our rapture, we look around and find the water alive with
porpoises, jumping, plunging, surging among the foam-
crested billows. There are thousands of them in every di-
rection, as far as the vision can reach, sporting among the
beautiful waves and enlivening everything with their mirth^

Many of us drink in the glories of this wonderful gunset
until they have faded from sight. Indeed, the little stars
seem loth to come out from the pearly sky, lest they attract
the attention of the earnest beholder by their intrusion.

During the day, I notice a little bird which has been fly-
ing about the ship for several days. It must have come on
board before the vessel left Liverpool and taken up quarters
among the rigging, until molested by the sailors. It flied

240 A Trip Abroad.

back and forth, and occasionally takes a short excursion out
over the water, but soon returns.

Wednesday, " the day is cold and dark, and dreary." The
rain falls most of the time. The wind, too, is pretty high.
There is a man on board who is very conspicuous. He has
once been a sailor, and knows more of old Neptune's realm
than any one else on board. He keeps himself full of
whiskey and wine all the time, and that, of course, keeps
his steam pretty high. As the sailors are manipulating the
ropes, he frequently intrudes himself, and gives his services
without being asked. To-day, the floor is very slippery,
and as he is showing his " agility,'' his feet fly up and his
head down, striking his face flat on the deck. He has a
pipe in his mouth ; which, fortunately, falls out, but his red
nose gets the full benefit of the blow. He is picked up,
bleeding as if stuck with a knife, the surgeon is called, and
he conveyed to more private quarters.

A STORM AT SEA.

Wednesday, the sailors spend a good deal of. their time ia
arranging the vessel for landing. They climb the masts to
the very top, and are as " busy as bees," scraping them with
large knives, so as to cleanse them of the effects of the smoke
and soot which have accumulated on them since we left
port, and to give them a neat, tidy appearance. The ropes
are all tied up and the sails adjusted with the best taste
possible. In fact, the rigging is full of sailors, and it re-
minds one of a tropical tree, where there are plenty of mon-
keys. They are as careful of the appearance of their ship
as an hostler is of his team.

Here comes the man whose nose received such a shock
yesterday. From its present shape, you would never
imagine that it had been mashed jlat as recently as yester-
day. He is not at all " set back" — surely he has not looked
in his glass this morning — ^but again gives his services to the

A Storm at Sea. 241

toiling sailors, with the boast that he is not kept back by
small things. Wonder if he means his nose ? If so, it is far
from smaU; and as to color, it closely resembles the morn*
ing-glory.

At twelve or one o'clock at night, we are aroused from
our slumbers with the startling intelligence that the ship is
in a violent cyclone. The port-holes are all closed and the
doors and windows shut as closely as possible. The waters
rise higher and higher, and the howling of the wind is
awful. It whistles through the ringing in a manner to me
before incredible, and its sound is terrible beyond descrip-
tion. The sailors have to lash themselves to the vessel and
cling to the ropes to prevent being washed overboard. The
ship now begins to pitch and plunge, and still the ever-
increasing storm rolls on. It attacks us fore and then aft,
to the right and then to the left; and she must be turned so
as to breast the surging tide, or all is lost.

Now the huge waves are rolling from seventy-five to one
hundred feet high, and the vessel is tossed about like a leaf
on a lake. First the prow is lifted sky-ward, as if it would
leave the waters; and then it is turned downward, as if it
sought to penetrate the secret recesses of old Neptune's
abode. Next it is down in the trough of the waves, and
seems doomed to be capsized, first from one side and then
from the other. Now she is picked up on a conical wave
and borne upward nearly a hundred feet, seemingly, is
poised for an instant in mid air, and then makes a plunge
down, down, down, as if going to the very bottom I In the
meantime, the receding wave is swept from under her by
the violence of the tempest, and the screw, (the propelling
force,) is left clear of the water and flies around at lightning
speed, causing the most horrible sensation. Why, it makes
the ship quiver and tremble from stem to stem, as if it
would shake into a thousand pieces I Meanwhile the next
succeeding wave rolls on and proudly rides over the vessel,
and for a moment we seem to be entirely submerged I This
16

242 A Trip Abroad.

state of aflfairs goes on for five or six long, weary hours,
duritig which there is hut little hope of being saved.

The inside of the ship presents a spectacle not much less
deplorable than the outside. Anticipating the storm, most
of the trunks are put down through the hatchway into a
lower room. A few, however, are left in the passages be-
tween the state-rooms. These are all lashed to the hand-
railing. But amidst the wild raging of the waters, they
roll about, as far as the ropes will allow them. And as the
old ship plunges from side to side and from end to end, you
may see numbers of valises come tumbling out of state-
rooms and making their way across the passages. . Boots
and shoes, too, come walking out without any feet in themj
and wander about at pleasure. My birth is v-ery near the
dining room, and I can hear the piles of plates and dishes
falling over and crushing to pieces.

There is not much less confusion among the people. You
know all etiquette is laid aside during a storm. Men and
women, old and young, rush frantically out of their rooms,
in some cases just as they retired, regardless as to whom
they meet. The wild raging of the storm outside is only
answered by the shrieks and moans of the ladies inside.

In the dining saloon quite a number of persons assembles,
ready to rush up on deck in case of an emergency. Some-
times, when the vessel makes these awful plunges, they lose
their balance, and you see nothing more of them, except
iheir feet flying up into the air, until they have time to re-
establish themselves.

In the steerage department, the scene beggars all descrip-
tion. My information is from an eye-witness. There are
seven hundred and sixty persons in this large room. Com-
ing from almost every nation, the mixed-up medley is,
within itself, suflScient to appall any sensitive nature. But
now the spectacle is horrifying in the extreme. In one
corner you may see scores, or even hundreds, piled together
|)raying; in another, as many more shrieking and crying

itoMEWARD Bound. 243

aloud for deliverance; in another, still, a vast number, too
much frightened to give utterance to their feelings ; while
some curse and swear and bid defiance to the God of the
storm. AH these are here together, men, women and
children, with all the loathsome consequences of the
sea-sickness among them. It is awful! In {act, itisaU awful/
Some one has beautifully sung, " Rocked in the cradle of
the deep," and "Life on the ocean wave;" but whoever he
was, he must have been " tipsy *^ or crazy ; or, he was like
the man who we are told wrote "Home, sweet home," and
had no home of his own — he has never tried such " rocking."

But the wind has partially subsided. We have gone sixty
or more miles out of our course and have lost several hours,
but that is nothing compared to our safety. Daylight is
dawning, and we will go out where we can seethe sublimity
of the ocean in a storm. Ah, it is grand — magnificently
grand ! The surging waves roll madly on, and, in their
wild confusion, beat and lash each other, until a more tre-
mendous wave sweeps on and swallows them up. All is
tumult, all disorder. The lowering clouds sweep heavily
over us, and the raging sea beneath us still lies gaping, as if
to swallow us up.

At last the clouds float oflF and the sun peeps out from the
curtain of mist and smiles benignly upon us, driving old
-^olus back into his mountain cavern. The snowy billows
roll grandly on, but our gallant bark floats majestically
onward towards the harbor of safety.

At nine o'clock we meet another storm-drenched vessel, a
smaller one, having only two masts. The usual signals are
passed, and we are gone. The chief engineer tells me that
we don't have such a cyclone once in twenty years. Late in
the evening, the pilot comes on board, and by this we know
we are approaching the port.

As night approaches, the wind becomes more boisterous,
until another storm seems imminent. We do not retire

244 A Trip Abroad.

quite 80 early, lest we suffer as we did last night. However,
the time passes away, and there are no worse indications.

But let me tell y ju another interesting circumstance. Do
you think that we, in the cabin department, escape sea-
sickness during the ragings of the cyclone ? If you do, you
are simply mistaken. In the very midst of the grandeur
and sublimity surrounding us, and while we are expecting
every moment to be lost, father Neptune calls on ug for
tribute, and we are '* casting up accounts,^* a score at a time.
This is a bvsy season witii must of the passengers, and the
fish are well fed for a considerable period. I can hear it
going on in the adjoining rooms. One of ray room mates
is an Irishman, who lias crossed the Atlantic several times.
He comes into the state-room occasionally and deposits his
tribvie, stating each time that he is not sea sick — indeed, he
never has been— but something he ate last night did not agree
with him. And yet, every few moments you may hear him
— ah-h-h-h ! Now just tell me why it is that a man never
likes to confess that he is sea-sick? Cannot see into it.
Finally, the old gentleman finds that he cannot pretend to
cloak the matter any longer, and simply confesses his weak-
ness.

As day-light dawns, the gladsome sound of " Land ! land I"
greets our ears. We are off Sandy Hook. The raging of
the water has somewhat abated, and as we cast anchor, wait-
ing for light, I feel like singing —

*' Drop the anchor ! farl the sail \
I am safe within the vail I"

Now they begin to bring up the bags of mail. What piles
there are ! There is enough of it to fill a common-sized
room. This gives some conception of the trade carried on
between the United States and Europe. Going up into the
harbor, the health officer comes on board, and requires all
the seven hundred and sixty steerage passengers to pass in
file before him, so as to detect any disease that might be

Homeward Bound. 245

among tbem. Every cabin passenger is also examined.
Next comes the United States mail sloop. Then the custom
officers, with their arms full of papers, come on and exam*
ine us all.

Finally, at eleven o'clock A. M., we are landed ; and I feel
as 1 set my feet upon " terra firma,^^ I shall never want to
wander again from dear old America. There is no country
on the face of this green earth so desirable as these United
States ; and no place in this country better than old North
Carolina.

THE END.

TABLE OF CONTENTS,

Paqe,
CHAPTER I. '
Crossing the Atlantic.^Frora Liverpool to Lor.don. — ^Farming la

England , 1-8

CHAPTER IT.
The Sunday School Centenary.— Crystal Palace* — The American

Exchange.— St. Paul's 8-13

CHAPTER III.
The Thames Embankment. — The Ratine's Monument.— Westmin-
ster Abbey. — Tnssaud's Art Gallery 13-21

CHAPTER IV.
The British Museum. — Meeting Mr. Samuel J Fall.— Dr. Parker's
City Temple. - St. Jaraes' Park.- A Ride Down the Thames —
Tower of London.— Polytechnic Hall 21-27

CHAPTER V.
Windsor Castle.— Mr. Spurgeon and his Work 27-35

CHAPTER VI.
From London to Paris. — People and Places in Paris. — '* Pere la

Chaise" 35-44

CHAPTER VIL
People and Plnces in Paris. — ^The Louvre. — Sunday in Paris.—

A Baptist Church.— A Visit to St. Cloud and Versailles 44-52

CHAPTER VIIL
From Paris to Rome. — Fontainebleau. — Ribbon Farming. — Mt.

CenisTuinel 52-58

CHAPTER IX.
From Paris to Rome. — ^Italy — ^Turin. — Genoa. — Pisa. — The Lean-

inif Tower 58-65

^CHAPTER X.
Sights in Rome.— The Coli.'-eura 65-71

CHAPTER XI.
Sights in Rome. — Governm»*nt Buildings. — The Royal Palace. —

Forum Romanum — Pincian Hill.— Sunday in Rome 71-78

CHAPTER XII.

Sights in Rome. — St. Peter's. — Monks' Burying-Ground. — An-
gelo's '• Moses'' — The Vatican and Sistine Chapel.— Vegetable

Market 79-86

CHAPTER XIII

Off for Naples.— Market Wagons.— The Museum 86-91

CHAPTER XIV.

Vesuvius — ''Lachryma Christi." — The Descent.— Pompeii. — Her-

culaneum 92-102

Contents. 247

CHAPTER XV. . Page.

From Naplps to Florence — Santa Croce — The Uflaz! Gallery — A

Man Walled up in a Church— Venice 102-112

CHAPTER XVI.
Venice— St. Mark's— Clock Tower— Rialto Bridge— Feeding the

Pigeons— Palace of the Doge 112-120

CHAPTER XVII.

Venice — The Bridge of Sighs — The Campanile — From Venice to

. Milan— TJtueCathedral-rDta Vinci's. WLastSupp r?'^.;. ..121-128

CHAPTER XVni.
The .Simplon ' Pftss^-Switzerlaad — Perpetual- Snow — ^The Top —

grieg,...,,g,.,.......,„,„.,^....^.... — , .aaa-iss

CHAPTER XIX.

" That Old Mule^"— -The-Tete-N^oire Pass— Cham ouny—Mt. Blanc

From Chamouny to G€jne.ya 136-142

CHAPTER XX.

Geneva— Berijer-Lake Thun-Interlaken— Giessbach Falls 142-149

CHAPTER XXI.

Lake Brienz— Swiss- Costumes— The Briinig Pass— Alpnach —
Lucerne— The "Lion of L.ucerne" — *' Glacier Garden" — As-
cent of the Rigi— William Tell— Zurich. 149-160

CHAPTER xxn.

Munich— A Large Woman--Ober- Anaimergau— The Passion Play.. 161-172

... CHAPTER XXIIL
From Munich to theRhine — ^Wurtemberg— H«'idelberg— The Uni-
; versity— Dueling— The, Castle and.Tun— Worms 173-181

. gHAPTEJR XlXlV.

The Storied Rhine- Cologne—Strange. ThlngaJn Germany-
Brussels ...J « 182-192

CHAPTER XXy.

Antwerp — Wood-Carving — The Museum— An Armless Man — ^Re-
crossing theChannel- Custom 'Officers— The' Aristocracy 193-200

CHAPTER 3tXVL
Back in England-^Dr. Jfewmian Hall's Chiirch— Visit to the Pris-
on— Dore's Gallery —Hampton Court — Bunhill Fields— Well-
ingborough ! 200-212

CHAPTER XXVII.

Scotland — Melrose Abbey— Dry burgh Abbey— Abbottsford— Ed-
inburgh— Arthur's Seat 212-221

CHAPTER XXVIII.
In Edinburgh— Antiquarian Museum — The Castle — John Knox's
House— Assembly Hall— Holyrood Palace— Through the

Trossachs— The Scotish Lakes 221-232

CHAPTER XXIX.
GlasLiow — A vr— Burns' Cottage—" Honny Doon — Allowav Kirk

— Donukl-on Hospital \ 232-236

CHAPTER XXX.
Homeward Bound— Whale Fi-^hing— A Storm at Sea 237-245

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Notre Dame, .» Frontispiece.

Page.

Englisli Farm Scene, 7

Windsor Castle, ^ ^ 28

Cliurcli of the Magdalcinc, 38

Triumphal Arc de I'Etoile, 39

Tomb of Napoleon, 40

Palace of the Tuileries and Louvre, 45

Palace at Versailles 51

Palace at Fontainebleau, 63

Galerie de Francois I.,. ^ ^ 54

Leaning Tower of Pisa, ^ 63

The Throne Room, 72

St. Peter's, 79

St. Angelo's Castle, 79

The Descent, 96

A Scene in Venice, 108

Cathedral at Milan, 124

Swiss Guides, : 132

" That Old Mule I !" 139

The Guide's Sweetheart, 151

Street Scene in Cologne, 18(7

Melrose Abbey, ; ^ 214

John Knox's House, ^ 224

Holyrood Palace, 226

FEB 1 5 1939